


the seas will be parted for us

by luxterra



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied Mpreg, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abortion, M/M, Mark is Johnny's son obviously, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Single Parent Moon Taeil, Single Parent Suh Youngho | Johnny, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated as we go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxterra/pseuds/luxterra
Summary: Ten years ago, Youngho's heart was shattered beyond repair. Devastated, he fled to Chicago to build a new life from scratch, one that didn't include Taeil.Ten years later, Youngho returns to Korea with his son to face the unexpected turmoil he left behind, one that does include Taeil.
Relationships: Background Jaehyun/Doyoung, Background Taeyong/Seulgi, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Past Johnny/Krystal
Comments: 243
Kudos: 403





	1. love brings you home

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is purely a work of fiction that contains elements which may not be to your liking, so please heed the tags. if that's the case, I'd appreciate it if you would move along and leave this to people who'd actually enjoy it. thanks!
> 
> warnings: references to depression, a handful of f-bombs, implied mpreg (will be updated as the story progresses!)

Krystal leaves on a dreary Thursday evening in December.

Youngho unlocks the apartment door with one hand, the other clasping Mark’s mitten-covered one tight. He shakes the snow off his boots as he shoves the door open with his shoulder. “Wipe your shoes on the mat, buddy,” he reminds his son. “We don’t want to bring sludge into the house.”

The apartment feels frigid, ominously vacant. A cursory glance around the foyer tells Youngho all he needs to know. Her threadbare wool scarf is missing from the hook by the door. The green ceramic bowl on the side table is devoid of her car keys.

“Where’s Mommy?” Mark wonders aloud, slowly taking off his jacket.

There’s a note on the kitchen counter, pinned beneath a platter of soft cookies covered in clingwrap. Chocolate chip peanut butter – Mark’s favorite treat and arguably the only thing Krystal has bothered to make in recent times.

_I love you both but I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Johnny. Please take care of him._

Her handwriting is barely legible, worsened by the dried tearstains that make the ink bloom. Youngho scans the note again, commits her words to memory, then crumples it into a ball and tosses it into the trashcan below the sink.

Just because he saw it coming, it’s not any easier to stomach.

Youngho had met Krystal at a party in Amber Liu’s basement. He was twenty-two, on the brink of graduating college, and she was a year younger, doe-eyed and shockingly beautiful.

“I’m Krystal,” she’d said, extending an elegant hand toward him. “You must be the infamous Suh Youngho. What is it that they call you around here?”

“John.”

“That’s such a solemn name, don’t you think? Doesn’t suit you.” Wrinkling her nose, Krystal then decided, “I think I’ll call you Johnny.”

They fooled around with each other for a couple of years, enjoying the unbridled freedom their ‘no-strings-attached’ arrangement offered, until a positive pregnancy test cemented their relationship, binding them together in a way they should’ve had the foresight to consider. 

Youngho and Krystal were never quite in love, barely scratching the surface of friendship, yet they mutually decided to give their child a chance.

And there was indeed a time when Youngho foolishly thought it could work. Krystal had showed considerable improvement not long after Mark’s first birthday. She began to cook meals from scratch, she read to Mark every night before bed, she allowed Youngho to touch her in ways that she used to adore and ways that he had almost forgotten.

But it didn’t take long before Krystal retreated into her shell of solitude, and they slept with their backs to each other again.

Krystal was somewhat devoted to Mark at the very least and tried her level best, although she was more of a caregiver than a mother. With every halfhearted hug she gave Mark, every awkward pat on the head, Youngho’s heart would clench at her empty gaze, the ghost of her smile that he hadn’t seen in years.

So no, Youngho cannot begrudge her for what she’s done. He finds that he is neither sad nor angry, but he yearns – for who Krystal used to be, for the life they could have had, for the life he could have had without Krystal. 

“Daddy,” Mark says, abruptly yanking Youngho from his thoughts. “Where’s Mommy?”

Youngho inhales, then exhales.

“Mommy’s gone away for a while. I don’t know when we’ll see her again.”

“Oh.” Cocking his head to the side, Mark eyes the cookies on the counter. “She made me cookies.”

Youngho’s throat tightens uncomfortably. “She did,” he murmurs. As an afterthought, he adds, “You know Mommy loves you, right? Wherever she is, whenever we get to see her… she loves you.”

“Of course.” Mark nods with the seasoned confidence that only a four-year-old could muster. “I love her too, and I love you, Daddy!”

Youngho lets out a watery chuckle. “I love you the most, baby.”

It’s presumptuous of him to consider a life without Krystal because without her, he would not have Mark. Regardless of the dire events that follow Mark’s birth, Youngho has never regretted having his son; not when he had to take weeks off work because Krystal was unable to even look at Mark without having a nervous breakdown, not when he hasn’t visited his parents in Korea for nearly three years because Krystal refused to follow him and leaving her behind wasn’t an option. 

And especially not now, when he is all Mark has left.

“I’m moving back to Seoul for good.”

“ _What_?”

“I’m moving back to Seoul for good,” Youngho repeats. “Mark and I.”

“What about—”

“Just Mark, Mom.”

“Oh, _honey_ ,” his mother says after a beat of stunned silence. “Youngho. Baby, what happened? I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

It’s no secret that his parents – his mother in particular – are not fond of Krystal. They perceive her to be the audacious American girl who had ensnared their only child, trapping him under her thumb. After all, they had only allowed Youngho to study abroad if he returned home immediately after graduating; a promise that he made but did not keep.

Because of Krystal.

“Krystal left a few days ago,” Youngho mutters, trying to keep his explanation as succinct as possible. “You know she’s been…unwell for some time and things were rough.”

“Maybe she just needs a break, Youngho. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” It’s a testament to his mother’s big heart that she is sincere, regardless of her distaste for Krystal. 

“No, Mom. That’s not happening.”

His tone must have been provided no room for argument because all he gets from his mother is a quiet, “Ah. I see.”

Their stilted conversation lapses into silence.

“Are you sure you want to move back here?” his mother asks after a while, her concern palpable even through the thousands of miles separating them. “You’ve built an entire life for yourself in Chicago, Youngho-ah. It’s all Mark has ever known too. To uproot him so soon after his mother left…”

Youngho takes a few seconds to respond, if only to give her the impression that he’s mulling her advice over when in fact, he’s already made up his mind.

“There’s nothing left for me – _us_ – here, Mom,” says Youngho eventually. “You know I only ever stayed because of her.” Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, he blinks back tears. “And I owe it to you and Dad. To come back. To come _home_.”

His mother’s even breathing stutters, and he knows that she’s crying too.

“I’ll tell your dad the news. We’ll make the necessary arrangements here for you and Mark.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “Is it okay if we tell your friends that you’re coming back?”

“My friends?” parrots Youngho dumbly.

“You know, your friends from high school. Taeyong, Jaehyun. Yuta, although he lives in Japan now, but he visits often. For work and all that. Oh, and Taeil, of course.”

A jolt runs through Youngho. He hasn’t heard their names ( _that name_ ) out loud in years.

“Just Taeyong. And let me speak to him first before you say anything, please.”

“Alright, then.” His mother seems to hesitate a bit before she says, “I really am sorry with how things turned out between you and Krystal, Youngho, but I’m so glad to have you back here. And to see my grandson again… Oh, I can’t wait! I just want to hold him and never let go. Hold _both_ of you.”

For the first time in a long time, Youngho feels a spark of anticipation, however small.

“I can’t wait to see you too, Mom.”

It takes Youngho almost two months to wrap up loose ends in Chicago. Once his transfer request to the company’s Seoul branch is approved, he puts the apartment up for sale.

Amidst the chaos of packing and farewell parties, he finds the time to text Krystal’s sister. He’s almost positive that Krystal is with Jessica in San Francisco, but he makes it a point not to ask.

**_hi jess. i just wanted to let u know that i’m moving back to korea with mark. i’ll send u our address once we get settled in._ **

The reply he gets from Jessica is almost instantaneous.

_You’re flying from Chicago to LA first right?_

**_yeah_**

_I’ll meet you in LA to see you guys off._

“Auntie Jess!”

Youngho had told Jessica that their layover in LA is brief, only three hours or so, but Jessica had still insisted that she would fly in from San Francisco and meet them at the airport nevertheless.

“Markie!”

Jessica crouches down, letting out an _oof_ when Mark barrels into her open arms. “Oh, you’ve gotten so big,” she coos, brushing back his bangs. “You’re going to be taller than me in no time, huh?”

“Yup.” Mark puffs his chest out proudly. “I’m gonna be tall like Daddy.”

“Of course you are.” Straightening up, Jessica faces Youngho. “Hey.”

“Hi, Jessica.”

They hug, and Youngho doesn’t miss how she clings to him a little tighter than usual.

“I’m—”

“Not here.” Youngho shakes his head. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

They opt for a café with a little jungle gym set-up, which does its job of keeping Mark occupied, leaving his father and aunt to their hushed conversation.

“She’s with you?”

Jessica mumbles in assent.

“Does she know we’re leaving?”

“She does.”

“Should I be… I mean, is custody going to be an issue? We were never married in the first place, so it’s a little—”

“Johnny.” Putting down her cup, Jessica reaches across the table and gently puts her hand on his. “You know there’s no one she trusts more than you. Mark will be fine anywhere, as long as he has you.”

Youngho clears his throat, lest his sentiments overcome him and he starts bawling in public.

“Take care of her,” he murmurs. “Help her get better if you can.”

Jessica nods, her eyes glazing over with tears.

“We loved each other, Jessica. Maybe not in the traditional way but we had something. We were…partners. And she will always be Mark’s mother no matter what.” Attempting a half-smile, Youngho jests, “And you will always be Mark’s favorite aunt.”

“I’m his _only_ aunt,” Jessica counters.

“Exactly why you’re his favorite.”

Letting out a choked giggle, Jessica wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Promise me one thing?”

“Yes, we’ll Facetime you at least once a week and I’ll send you pictures and videos of Mark upon request,” intones Youngho, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Not just that.” Jessica looks at him, her expression open and tender. “Johnny, you have to promise me.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be happy.”

Youngho barely gets any sleep during the thirteen-hour flight to Seoul. His body is flooded with unseasonable nerves, so much so that he begins to wonder if returning to Seoul is a mistake. As much as he is looking forward to seeing his parents again, the very notion of it makes him nauseous.

Although, it’s probably more about seeing Taeyong than his parents.

When he’d fled Seoul at eighteen, dejected and inconsolable, Youngho had cut off nearly all strings that tied him to his previous life. His parents were instructed to withhold his contact details from everyone who knew him, only allowed to provide sporadic updates whenever they asked.

_Youngho graduated college last week. Youngho found a nice girl. Youngho and his girlfriend are having a baby. Youngho’s son is the cutest thing._

Gradually, people stop asking. Youngho doesn’t blame them.

Taeyong is the only exception.

For the past ten years, they’ve been exchanging emails, albeit intermittently since Youngho had refused to give his number and home address to Taeyong, much to the latter’s chagrin. Taeyong has kept their interactions a secret from the others because they would be affronted to know that Youngho had been selective in choosing who to keep in touch with.

It’s not that he is closer to Taeyong than he is to the rest. If he were to think long and hard about it, Youngho remembers spending more time with Jaehyun during their high school days since they had more in common.

But Taeyong is undoubtedly the closest to _him_.

Thus, out of selfish desire rather than genuine comradery, Youngho decided to stay in touch with Taeyong, simply to get the opportunity to send a casual email every now and then.

**_How is he?_ **

_He’s fine._

The response is always the same. If not ‘fine’, then ‘okay’. Even ‘alright’, if Taeyong is feeling particularly whimsical. No further details are ever given and Youngho doesn’t ask for them, since he figures he doesn’t have the right to.

(But Youngho wasn’t the one who said that what they had wasn’t real, that _he_ was fucking stupid to even consider it, who shattered _his_ heart into pieces.

It was _him_.)

But because Youngho is a masochist, he continues to ask.

And Taeyong continues to answer.

The long-awaited reunion with his parents at the airport passes by in a blur. Youngho registers his mother smothering Mark with kisses, his father’s hand on his shoulder, but not much else. He feels disoriented, assaulted by memories he’d painstakingly buried and shadows of a life he no longer recognizes.

“Taeyong is waiting for you at home,” his mother tells him. “He didn’t want to come with us to the airport because he thought it’d be overwhelming for you and Mark. Always so considerate, that one.”

Youngho hums, noncommittal, and continues to look out the window.

In the backseat, Mark babbles animatedly to his grandmother, wide eyes taking in the sights. “There are so many tall buildings here, just like Chicago,” he muses. “Are we going to live in a tall building too, Daddy? Like we used to?”

“Soon,” Youngho promises, regarding his son with fondness. “I got us a really nice place. But we’ll be staying with Grandma and Grandpa this week since the apartment isn’t ready yet.”

“I told your daddy that you could stay with us forever, but he said no,” interjects his mother, somewhat peeved.

Before Youngho could respond, his father cuts in. “I’m sure Youngho and Mark would like their own bachelor pad,” he says, lighthearted. “Besides, the apartment is only… What is it, son? Fifteen minutes away from us?”

“Ten.”

His mother rolls her eyes with a little _tsk_ but drops the subject.

Before long, his father’s old Hyundai rolls to a stop in front of his childhood home. “Well, this is us,” his father proclaims, unfastening his seatbelt. “Welcome home, Youngho-ah.”

Youngho takes a good, long look at his father’s beaming face, wrinkled and weathered, and grasps just how much he’s missed.

“Thank you, Dad,” he answers. “It’s good to be back.”

They filter out of the car. Mark takes in his new surroundings, quiet yet curious.

As Youngho and his parents busy themselves with the luggage, the wooden gates leading to their house creak open and a trenchcoated figure steps out into the cool evening, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Youngho looks up, and for the first time in ten years, comes face to face with Lee Taeyong.

Taeyong doesn’t look that much different from the last time Youngho saw him, save for the tasteful burgundy dye job. Age has honed him into taut curves and sharp angles, making him look more daunting than he actually is.

Or perhaps Youngho is just a coward.

“Taeyong,” he greets, for lack of something more original. “It’s been a while.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Suh Youngho. Showing up here again after ten years.”

To anyone who doesn’t know any better, Taeyong’s remark would come across as nonchalant, just friendly banter, but to Youngho who _does_ know better, it’s fraught with hurt.

The steps Taeyong takes toward him are slow, measured. He’s shorter than Youngho by quite a few inches but in that moment, when Taeyong turns his piercing stare on him, Youngho has never felt so small.

“I’m sorry,” Youngho says, although he knows it’s not, and never will be, enough. 

“I know.”

Taeyong schools his face into a carefully neutral expression but Youngho can sense the resentment that rolls off him. Even so, there’s also relief, a tinge of yearning, and Youngho reminds himself that for all that Taeyong is closer to _him_ , it doesn’t change the fact that he and Youngho were each other’s first friend in middle school.

It was Youngho who cheered Taeyong on at amateur dance battles even when he lost, and it was Taeyong who spent hours on the couch in the Suhs’ living room, watching one NBA game after another with Youngho despite his little to no interest in the sport.

“It may not seem like it but I missed you.” It’s the truth, Youngho realizes. One that he’s had difficulty admitting over the years, but the truth still.

And Taeyong knows it.

“So did I,” he murmurs, before approaching Youngho and embracing him fully.

Youngho feels himself melt, finally freed from the façade he’d had to keep up. The circumstances are too intricate to amount to a completely fresh start, yet there’s a flicker of new promise that assures Youngho he is exactly where he’s meant to be.

Their hug is cut short by Mark, who, to his credit, has been drinking in the entire exchange with a patience that a child his age normally wouldn’t possess.

“Daddy, who’s this?”

At the same moment, a woman pokes her head round the gate. Even in the dim light, Youngho could tell that she’s attractive. Her features are striking but they quickly give way to a gentle smile when she catches his eye.

“Mark, sweetie, this is your Uncle Taeyong,” Youngho’s mother explains. “He’s one of your daddy’s friends from school.” Her gaze flits to the other woman knowingly. “And that’s his wife. You can call her Aunt Seulgi.”

Youngho vaguely recalls mailing an ostentatious wedding gift to Taeyong some years ago, one that Krystal absently picked out and he paid for despite not knowing exactly what it was.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seulgi-ssi. I’m Youngho and this is my son, Mark.”

“It’s wonderful to finally be able to meet you guys.” Seulgi inches closer to them, lets Taeyong slide an easy arm around her waist. The edges of her eyes crinkle when she looks at Mark. “Especially you, cutie.”

Mark hides his face in Youngho’s pantleg shyly.

“You know, Mark, Aunt Seulgi here is a designer.” Taeyong crouches down so that he and Mark are on eye level. “I heard that your dad’s letting you decorate your room at your new house. She’d be more than happy to help you out with that.”

“Really?” Mark asks, equal parts dubious and intrigued.

“Sure. We’ll both help you. Now, what are some of the things that you like?”

“Spider-Man, dinosaurs and watermelons.”

Seulgi nods seriously but there’s an amused quirk to her mouth. “I’ll try my best to work with that.”

It doesn’t take long before Mark detaches himself from Youngho and skips into the house, prattling to Seulgi about his dream bedroom while his grandparents look on affectionately. Youngho and Taeyong bring up the rear in silence, awkwardness lingering between them.

“I’ll give you maybe two days until Jaehyun knocks your parents’ door down. Yuta will be flying in tomorrow from Tokyo but he said he’s willing to skip a big business pitch to come here and punch you in the nuts.”

Snorting, Youngho replies, “I wouldn’t really blame him if he makes good on that.”

“Neither would I.”

“And what about Taeil?” Youngho blurts out against his better judgment. The name feels alien on his tongue, dry with prolonged disuse. 

Taeyong falters a little. “He knows that you’re back,” he admits eventually. “But I think you should give him time. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

There’s something guarded in the way he chooses his words but Youngho is too tired to read into it.

“I actually don’t think he’d ever want to see me again. Or even Jaehyun and Yuta, for that matter.”

“High school was so long ago, Youngho,” mutters Taeyong. “We were angry then, and to some extent we’re angry now, but you’re _here_. What’s holding a grudge against you going to do?”

They hear Mark’s squeal, tangled with peals of Seulgi’s laughter, and Taeyong’s demeanor softens.

“Besides,” he adds, “being too pissed at you would deny us that adorable kid of yours. I’ve met him all of five minutes and I’m ready to kill a bear with my bare hands for him.”

Youngho grins wryly. “I fucked up a lot of things in my life but that boy isn’t one of it.”

“No,” Taeyong agrees. “I think you did a great job with him.”

“Well, at the rate I’m going he’s set to be my only child, so that’s nice to hear.”

Taeyong’s lips part for a split second, like he has something to say, before he decides against it. “Right. Anyway, let’s go in. Seulgi made dinner.”

“Gorgeous _and_ a great cook? Why, Lee Taeyong, you sly fox!”

“Oh, shut up.”

Taeyong manages to keep Jaehyun and Yuta at bay for another three days, buying Youngho some time.

“But we’re meeting them for lunch on Saturday,” he informs Youngho over the phone. “Make sure to bring Mark.”

“Because they’re so eager to meet him?”

“Because Yuta is less likely to deck you in the face in front of your son, idiot.”

“…Fair.”

And so days pass, and before he realizes it, Youngho is outside an overhyped café in Gangnam, hand in hand with Mark.

“Daddy, can we go in already?” Mark asks, sounding just the slightest bit impatient. After all, they’ve been standing there for a good ten minutes.

“Sorry, bud,” Youngho sighs, ruffling his son’s hair. “I’m just a little nervous to meet my friends again.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen them, that’s all.”

“But Daddy, Mrs. Carter at my old school used to say that if someone is really your _real_ friend, they’ll be your friend no matter what!” The look Mark gives Youngho is full of feeling. “Are they your real friends?”

The question takes him off guard. Unsure how to respond, Youngho settles on, “I hope so.”

“Then let’s find out!”

Mark drags Youngho into the café. Almost instantly, Youngho spots them, occupying a table at the backmost part of the café, and he would’ve made a run for it if not for the fact that he and Yuta made unfortunate eye contact.

“Suh Youngho!”

Yuta’s booming voice startles not only Youngho and Mark, but also the other patrons of the café. To avoid further unwanted attention, Youngho quickly makes his way toward his friends. “Hey,” he says, desperately trying to seem casual. “Sorry we’re late.”

Unimpressed, Taeyong stares at him. “You do know that we could see the two of you just standing out there, right? There are windows here.”

“Oh.”

Jaehyun rises from his seat. Even at a glance, it’s clear that time has been nothing but kind to him. He is broader than he was at eighteen and just as handsome if not more so, still sporting his signature boyish charm.

“I never thought I’d get to see you again,” he remarks, smile small and tentative.

“Yeah, I— I’m sorry.” Youngho winces. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m still mad.”

“As you should be.”

Jaehyun nods, a quick jerk of his head, but then he huffs and leans in for a hug regardless. “Still missed you, though. Fuckin’ asshole.”

“Missed you too, man.”

Youngho is loath to let go of Jaehyun because it would mean dealing with Yuta, but he figures it’s better to just face him head on, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

“Suh,” Yuta spits out, his upper lip curling.

“Nakamoto. Still thinking of punching me in the face?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then you’ll have to go through my bodyguard first.”

It’s a dirty tactic, pushing Mark in front of him, but then Mark gazes earnestly at Yuta and like so many before him, Yuta succumbs, already helplessly endeared like Youngho hoped – and knew – he would be.

“You are a vile man, Suh Youngho,” Yuta snaps, with no real heat.

Smirking knowingly, Youngho takes the seat opposite Yuta and settles Mark next to him.

The tension looming over them dissipates after some time much to Youngho’s relief, even if it’s only by a small margin. He’s brought up to speed on all that has happened since he left. He learns that both Taeyong and Yuta had gone to Chung-Ang, while Jaehyun got into Yonsei on a full athletic scholarship.

Taeyong and Seulgi were on the same dance team in college and have been together since, looking forward to their two-year wedding anniversary next month. Jaehyun is engaged to a lawyer he’d met while on a work retreat in Jeju, and they’re expecting their first child in the summer. Yuta claims to be single by choice but makes sure to brag about his colorful past experiences.

None of them mention Taeil.

They’re almost done with their meal when Youngho hears a familiar female voice behind him: “Aww, look at this cute little boys’ club!”

Seulgi greets all of them in turn, leaning in to peck Taeyong on the cheek. There’s a man standing just behind her and based on how swiftly Jaehyun moves toward him, in addition to the obvious baby bump, Youngho deduces he’s Jaehyun’s fiancé.

“Youngho, this is my fiancé, Doyoung,” Jaehyun says, preening. “Babe, this is our friend Youngho and his son, Mark.”

“Pleased to meet you, Youngho-ssi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“Not _all_ , unfortunately,” Doyoung refutes wittily.

Youngho lets out a chuckle, both taken aback and pleasantly surprised that Jaehyun has chosen someone with so much bite. “I deserve that, I guess.”

“Anyway, Doyoung and I are done shopping, and we feel like having ice cream now,” declares Seulgi. She puts an arm around Mark. “What say you, Mark? Wanna come with?”

Before his son could pull the puppy-dog eyes on him, Youngho accedes. “Go ahead. Stay close to Aunt Seulgi and Uncle Doyoung, okay?” He looks pointedly at Seulgi. “Not more than two scoops. If he doesn’t sleep tonight because of the sugar, you guys aren’t the ones who’ll be staying up with him.”

“Two scoops, promise.”

Seulgi and Doyoung hand off their shopping bags to their respective partners before whisking Mark away.

“ _Now_ we can finally talk,” Taeyong says. “After all, little mugs have big handles, and Mark seems smarter than most four-year-olds.”

Youngho hums in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“So what’s the deal with you?” In typical Yuta fashion, he doesn’t bother to skirt around the issue and goes straight for the kill. “Back here all of a sudden?”

It takes Youngho a while to collect his thoughts, uncertain how to explain the complexity of the situation.

“The deal I had with my parents was that I would come home right after graduating,” he begins. “But I met this girl. We had an on-and-off thing, so I kept postponing my return to Seoul. Then she got pregnant and I just had to stay, I guess. Krystal wasn’t…doing well. Never really cut out for motherhood and all that. She left us a couple of months back, so I decided to come back since she was the only reason I remained in Chicago for so long.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all that from Taeyong already,” Yuta interrupts, “and that’s not the issue, although of course I feel bad for you and Mark. What I _really_ want to know is why you disappeared off the face of the Earth, when you could’ve shared all this with us from Day 1. That was a dick move, Youngho.”

“Yuta,” says Taeyong, a silent warning.

“No, you’re right.” Shaking his head, Youngho sighs. “I just… I couldn’t—”

“It was Taeil, wasn’t it?”

Youngho feels like he’s been doused with ice. He flounders for probably a whole minute before settling on an inelegant, “What?”

Unperturbed, Jaehyun plows on. “It was Taeil. You left, and essentially abandoned us _and_ your parents, because of Taeil.”

“You knew?” _This whole time?_

“We all did,” Yuta remarks. “Anyone with eyes would’ve noticed that the two of you had something going on. We weren’t complete idiots, Youngho. And the fact that you guys were once caught making out under the bleachers by the janitor didn’t help.”

“ _Yuta_ ,” groans Taeyong, just as Youngho splutters, “Mr. Hwang promised he wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“Well, Mr. Hwang was a big fat liar, that’s what.”

“No, but really,” Jaehyun insists. “What made you do it, Youngho? So you and Taeil messed around and it didn’t work out. So _what_? Why did you feel the need to move halfway across the globe and cut off all contact with us?” He is no longer as composed as he was before, his anguish unmissable.

_Don’t be stupid, Youngho. This isn’t real. It was never going to work out._

“You guys knew I always wanted to study in America,” Youngho protests meekly. 

“We did, but we also thought we’d be able to talk to you. Maybe Skype once in a while. Visit you during summer vacation, if we can scrounge up enough money.” Yuta stares at him, embittered, and Youngho feels like he’s about to throw up. “When you just upped and left like that… We were blindsided, Youngho. We didn’t know what we did wrong.”

“You guys didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then?”

Youngho finds that there are no words because there is no excuse. He had been so desperate to flee the unfathomable agony that he foolishly forgot there will never be a proper escape. It will continue to haunt him, a persistent storm cloud in a tranquil gray sky, and no matter how fast he runs, how far he goes, it follows.

“I don’t know. All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

There’s a noticeable tremor to his voice that invokes pity from even Yuta.

“Just so you know, you’re not allowed to move anywhere for the next five years or so, to make up for your little vanishing act,” he says casually. 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. We’re here to stay this time.”

“And we’re all glad to have you.” Taeyong sends him a loaded look, solid and warm, and in that moment, Youngho doesn’t think he’s ever been more thankful for someone’s mere existence.

“Well, I guess the gang’s back together again, then.” Upon realizing that he might have misspoken, Jaehyun abruptly clamps up.

Sighing, Youngho counters, “Don’t do that. Taeil is part of our gang too. You guys don’t have to act like he doesn’t exist around me. Sooner or later we’ll have to meet anyway.” He swallows, steeling himself for the bitter truth. “Where is he now? Is he married? Any kids?”

Yuta can’t meet his eyes, acting as if the baby one table over is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Jaehyun is slowly turning a shade of uncomfortable pink.

As usual, Taeyong is left to deal with the situation. 

“He’s around,” is the tactful answer Youngho gets. “He lives and works in Seoul still. As for the other questions, I don’t think it’s my place to explain on his behalf. You understand, right?”

“Of course.”

“But he’s single, that much I can tell you.”

“I see.” Youngho valiantly tries to ignore the flicker of hope unfurling in his chest.

“ _But_ it’s…complicated.”

“Isn’t everything complicated at this juncture in our lives?”

“Amen,” Yuta concurs, knocking back his glass of wine.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“If you feel sick, or you just want to go home, you tell your teacher—”

“—to call you, or Grandma and Grandpa. I know.”

To Youngho’s right, his new colleague Kun is snickering. “You might want to ease up a bit there, Youngho,” he chides. “Mark is a big boy and he’s been to school before. He knows what to do. Right, Mark?”

Renjun, Kun’s son, shoots his father a disbelieving look. “Dad, didn’t you cry—”

“Adults are _talking_ here, Renjunnie.”

Kun was the one who had recommended the kindergarten to Youngho, swearing up and down that it facilitated a smooth transition for Renjun when they moved to Seoul from Beijing two years ago. “The teachers are wonderful, the syllabus is fantastic,” he had gushed, “and there’s a healthy mix of different cultures. Mark would feel right at home!”

There’s no reason for Kun to lie, of course. It’s not like he’d get anything from it. Surely, the uneasy feeling churning in Youngho’s gut is just dad jitters. Right?

“I think I’d feel better after meeting his teacher,” he admits.

“Of course.” Kun smiles at him kindly. “And for what it’s worth, at least Mark has one friend already. Right, Renjun? You’ll help Mark settle in?”

“Yeah,” boasts Renjun, grasping Mark’s hand with an aggression that should probably be concerning. “We’re best friends now.” The intense frown he sports belies his encouraging words.

Mark blinks owlishly at him. “Okay.”

“I hope that takes the edge off some,” Kun whispers to Youngho, bumping their shoulders together lightly.

“For sure,” Youngho confirms, grateful.

Weaving their way through the crowd, they make their way toward the boys’ classroom. Kun keeps up an easy chatter throughout, which puts Youngho at ease considering he himself is too nervous to partake in meaningful conversation.

“It’s great that the boys are classmates,” Kun comments. “And their teacher this year is Mr. Moon. I’ve always liked him.”

Youngho could feel his nerves spasm at the name. _This is Korea_ , he scolds himself. _There are literally only ten last names. It’s just a coincidence._ He staunchly pays no heed to the nagging voice at the back of his head that says otherwise.

“I think this is it,” murmurs Kun, coming to a stop outside a large classroom teeming with kids and parents alike. He squints at the screen of his phone, then at the label hanging over the doors. “Class 127. Yep, this is the one.”

“And there’s Teacher Moon.” Renjun points to an apron-clad figure in the center of the room. “Hi, Teacher Moon!”

Teacher Moon turns to face them, and—

Fate, Youngho has learned over the years, is a tangled, cruel thing. The cards that he’s been dealt have convinced him the powers that be must absolutely despise him. Nothing in his life is ever a fluke, nary a simple happenstance. It all boils down to some form of twisted serendipity that is meticulously crafted to ensure none of his sins goes unaccounted.

—and that is how Youngho meets Taeil again, in a packed kindergarten classroom, in the city where their chapter began and was cut short against his will.

Taeil is just as stunned to see him, that much is evident. His face is contorted into an expression that is both wary and vulnerable. He is older, more tired, a little fuller around the cheeks, but still unmistakably Taeil.

Youngho forces himself to zero in on the most significant point of all.

Nearly ten million people in Seoul…

…and Taeil is his son’s teacher.


	2. I see your truth and you see mine

The day had started out normally. Even better than usual, Taeil dared to say. He woke up before his alarm, so he squeezed in a long shower and managed to whip up a vegetable omelet and some tofu for breakfast. He then took the bus to work, arriving with a good twenty minutes left to spare.

By the time Taeil reaches the teachers’ lounge, it’s already occupied by a few of his colleagues. He coos dutifully at the latest photos of Joohyun’s daughter and agrees to a second piece of Yoona’s singed and nearly pitch-black brownies.

“He’s staring at you again,” Joohyun singsongs under her breath.

“Who?”

She rolls her eyes. “Who else? Sicheng, of course.”

Taeil looks up at the man in question, who nearly drops the mug he’s holding when they make eye contact. He gives Taeil an ungainly semi-wave and scuttles out of the teachers’ lounge before Taeil could respond in kind. 

Once Sicheng is out of earshot, Yoona raises a perfect eyebrow at Taeil. “So what’s that about?”

“What’s what about?” 

“Don’t play dumb with us,” hisses Joohyun, wagging a finger at him. “It’s obvious that Sicheng has a crush the size of Namsan on you. Put him out of his misery and ask him out already.”

Feeling a little self-conscious under the scrutiny of his colleagues, Taeil shakes his head vehemently.

“Don’t be silly. Sicheng has only been here for one semester and he’s the only non-Korean teacher here. I’m sure he’s feeling out of place and just wants to make friends.”

“The last time someone wanted to ‘make friends’ with me, she married me and got me pregnant,” Joohyun deadpans.

“Sicheng is _young_.” He tries not to come across as self-deprecating but Taeil knows it’s a lost cause. “Sicheng is young,” he reiterates, emitting a humorless laugh, “and I have baggage. Not the greatest combination, is it?”

“Everyone has baggage,” Yoona insists, a stubborn curve to her mouth. “Doesn’t mean they can’t try to be happy.”

“Some baggage may be bigger than others.” Taeil downs the last of his coffee, signaling the end of their conversation. “I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

As he walks to the classroom assigned to him, Taeil realigns his thoughts. Workplace gossip is transient and sooner rather than later, some other piece of news would overtake Sicheng’s purported crush on him, and it’ll be like it never happened.

Because it _can’t_ happen.

“Good morning, hyung!”

Taeil grins at his assistant, who’s already arranging paper and stationery on the kids’ desks.

“Morning, Jungwoo,” he replies. “Did you have a good break? How was the trip to Japan?”

“Oh, it was _amazing_ ,” Jungwoo gushed, clapping his hands together. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But I’m excited to finally be back at work. How many kids do we have this year?”

“Twelve. Eight boys, four girls.” Taeil pulls out a piece of paper from the file on his desk and hands it to Jungwoo. “Most of them are from Sooyoung’s class last year but there’s a handful of new ones too.”

“Nice. How many internationals this time around?”

“Three, all boys. An American, a Chinese from Sooyoung’s class and another Chinese but from Germany. He speaks English, though, which I hope you brushed up on over the break.”

“Kind of,” says Jungwoo sheepishly, “but my Mandarin is still not great. Good thing we have Sicheng now, right?”

“…Sure.”

Gradually, the classroom fills up with the chatter of children. Jungwoo gets them started on a simple coloring project to ease them into things while Taeil deals with their anxious parents. He patiently assures Mr. Kim that yes, the school has taken note of Lami’s peanut allergy, and promises to let Mrs. Lee know if Donghyuck smuggles his pet hamster to school again. 

“Hi, Teacher Moon!” Taeil hears from behind him. He turns with a beam, ready to greet his new student—

And there’s Youngho.

He blinks, twice to be sure, and the man standing just about six feet away from him is still Suh Youngho, in the flesh.

His blood runs cold, laced with consternation. Youngho – broader, older, _different_ – sports an expression of mild horror that Taeil knows for a fact is reflected on his own face. His heart hammers against his ribcage at breakneck speed, pulsing in his ears. 

Words fail him and he can tell that they’ve failed Youngho too.

“Hi, Teacher Moon!” the boy repeats, approaching him. “I’m Renjun, from Ms. Park’s class last year. This is my new friend, Mark!”

Mark. Mark _Suh_. _Of course_. God, how could he have been so blind?

“Hi, Renjun,” Taeil says, a tad too cheerfully to pass as normal. “And hello, Mark.” He forces a smile, though it probably comes off more of a grimace. The boy stares at him, wide-eyed, and he feels his chest constrict. 

This is Youngho’s son. The child Youngho had with an unknown woman, the child Taeil has known about since the day he was born, the child whose very existence has kept Taeil awake at night for nearly five years.

The magnitude of it makes nausea slither up his throat.

“Well, as you know, I’m your teacher and you can call me Teacher Moon. Why don’t you two get settled with Teacher Kim while I have a little chat with your dads?”

Renjun drags Mark toward Jungwoo, who ushers them closer with open arms.

“Right. So.” How does he play this? Does he pretend they’re strangers?

(They _are_.)

Luckily for him, Renjun’s disarmingly handsome father beats him to it.

“I’m Qian Kun, Renjun’s dad. My partner isn’t here since she has a meeting but she’ll pick him up later in the afternoon,” he says, shaking Taeil’s hand. “And this is my colleague Suh Youngho, Mark’s dad. He just moved back here from Chicago.”

Taeil almost says _I know_ but catches himself just in time. “Mr. Suh.”

“Mr. Moon,” Youngho responds tersely. He extends a formal hand toward Taeil, who hesitantly takes it. Their handshake is short, robotic, and Taeil is too numb to even feel it.

“Mark has never even been to Korea before and now he has to start at a new school, so Youngho is a little nervous,” Kun clarifies. “How about you reassure him a little, Mr. Moon? Put his mind at ease.”

“I—”

“On second thought, it looks like Mark is in perfectly capable hands.” Shrugging, Youngho carries on, “Mr. Moon and I can talk some other day. I’ll just say bye to Mark and we can leave, Kun.”

A hint of confusion passes momentarily over Kun’s face but he nods regardless. “Sure. Thanks anyway, Mr. Moon.”

“No problem. I’m just going to… head out to the bathroom for a bit.” Taeil squeezes past them and walks briskly down the hallway.

Even as he rounds the corner to the bathroom, he can sense Youngho’s eyes on him.

Taeyong arrives at 5.28 pm, two minutes before the promised time. His tie is loose around his neck and despite the barely concealed exasperation, he seems resigned to his fate.

“I had the longest day at work today but here I am,” he grumbles, toeing off his shoes by the door. “You owe me.”

“In case you forgot, I also had a pretty long day at work,” Taeil scowls at him, “which is why I asked you to come, remember?”

Sighing, Taeyong sinks onto the worn leather couch.

“You know I had nothing to do with it, right?”

“Oh, _sure_ ,” sneers Taeil, crossing his arms over his chest. “There are a ton of kindergartens in this city and he chose to enroll his kid at the one I work at? What are the fucking odds, Taeyong?”

“There’s no reason for him to discuss his son’s school options with any of us,” Taeyong explains calmly. “We don’t have kids, nor are we teachers. All he told me was his new colleague recommended a good place that the colleague’s son also goes to.” His face then contorts into a curious frown.

“Although, as the teacher, wouldn’t you have seen Mark’s name in your student list beforehand?”

“Suh is a much more common surname than you’d think,” Taeil laments. “Plus, I never knew his name anyway.”

“You never asked.”

“I didn’t really want to know.”

“Touché.”

Taeil rolls his eyes, though he is admittedly rather appeased by the account that he received. “So you didn’t sell me out?”

“I haven’t sold you out for ten years. Why start now?”

“Because he’s _here_? Like _here_ here?”

“You can’t possibly avoid him forever,” chides Taeyong.

“Oh, try me.”

“Taeil.”

The fight bleeding out of him, Taeil lets himself flop against the couch. His eyes are trained on the stark white ceiling, seeing images that aren’t really there.

“I’ve always fantasized about what it would be like, seeing him again,” he says, mouth dry. “But _actually_ seeing him is another thing altogether.”

Meeting Youngho again, after all that transpired between them, is simultaneously his clandestine dream and his worst nightmare.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Not really. He wasn’t that keen on talking and neither was I.”

Taeyong hums to indicate that he heard but offers no further comments.

“And his son. The boy…” Taeil trails off, taking a deep breath instead.

The fact that Youngho has a son has always besieged him, filled him with shameful malice, but when what was once an intangible notion takes shape in front of his very eyes, it’s difficult to cling onto the bitterness.

Despite consciously trying not to, Taeil had spent most of the morning staring at Mark. He traced every feature, noting the ones that are so obviously Youngho and willfully ignoring the rest that belong to someone else. At one point, Mark had caught him in the act, giving him a tiny smile that he was quick to return.

He imagines Youngho crying tears of joy, cradling a newborn swaddled in a blue blanket. The picture fades, giving way to Youngho studiously recording the first steps of a bumbling toddler. The toddler grows up to become Mark, bright-eyed and precocious, kicking a soccer ball toward Youngho in a lush green backyard.

He tries not to think of the woman alongside them in these scenarios that he conjured up.

“I don’t know if I can look at Mark every day, Taeyong,” Taeil whispers.

“Mark has done nothing wrong,” answers Taeyong with a ferocity Taeil was not expecting. “He’s had a hard enough time as it is. The last thing he needs is his teacher holding a grudge against him.”

“It’s not a grudge! It’s just—”

“—what could’ve been?” Taeyong finishes, his tone much gentler.

Taeil exhales. It sounds more like a dry sob than anything. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Mark is a terrific kid, Taeil. A terrific kid you get to have in your class for a year. Don’t miss out on that just because you resent him for the choices you made.”

Because it’s always been easier to blame a child he’s never met, to blame Youngho, instead of blaming himself.

“I don’t resent him,” says Taeil thickly. “And I don’t regret the choices I made.”

“Don’t you?” Taeyong asks.

Taeil looks away, wiping off a stray tear.

The doorbell abruptly rings, resounding throughout the small apartment and effectively cutting their conversation short. Taeil is grateful for the distraction.

“I’ll get it,” offers Taeyong, already knowing who’s on the other side. He saunters to the front door and yanks it open with a grin. “Hey, kid. Back from your playdate?”

“Uncle Taeyong! I haven’t seen you in _forever_.”

“Two weeks isn’t forever, you know.”

“It’s forever and two days to me.”

Clearing his throat, Taeil pretends to be affronted. “Oh, so it’s just Taeyong you’re excited to see? What am I, chopped liver?”

The girl giggles, walking toward him with her arms stretched out playfully.

“Hi to you too, Dad.”

Youngho manages to dodge his fatherly duties for an entire week, until his mother puts a stop to it.

“As much as we adore our grandson, we can’t pick him up from school every day,” she hassles him over dinner, “especially when it’s because you _won’t_ and not because you _can’t_.”

“Mom, it’s just weird.” Aware that he’s whining, Youngho tones it down a notch. “Taeil and I are just not as close as we used to be.”

Understatement of the year, if not the century.

“And whose fault is that?”

“ _Mom_.”

“You spent the last ten years evading your problems. Don’t you think it’s about time you face them head on for once?” She gives him a meaningful look. “And as a parent, you’ll find that it’s extremely useful to be on good terms with your child’s teacher.”

“It’s the only reason Coach Ryu didn’t kick you off the basketball team after failing History in tenth grade,” his dad chimes in. “We were sauna buddies.”

A little insulted, Youngho says, “I thought that was because he genuinely liked me.”

“You were sixteen, son. Nobody likes sixteen-year-old boys.”

“ _Any_ way,” his mother emphasizes, “just pick Mark up tomorrow, honey. Okay? Try to get in Taeil’s good books. He was your friend once. It’s not impossible that he could be again.”

The reality is far more convoluted but the last thing he wants is to explain it to his parents.

“Okay, Mom,” Youngho acquiesces, defeated. “I’ll pick Mark up tomorrow.”

“And talk to Taeil.”

“That too.”

Of course, in typical Youngho fashion, he attempts to weasel his way out of it but his parents are one step ahead of him. They make plans for the afternoon so that even if he pulls some kind of stunt, they wouldn’t be available to pick Mark up nonetheless.

The entire way to Mark’s classroom, he keeps up a ceaseless mantra of _I love my son I love my son I love my son_ , with his teeth gritted.

“Well, somebody looks a little stressed.”

Youngho turns to his left, eyeing the statuesque brunette who’s smirking at him. She seems vaguely familiar. “Vivian?” he tries.

She snickers. “Victoria.”

“Shit. Sorry. Don’t tell Kun I botched your name.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Victoria assures him. “Why do you look so tense though, Youngho-ssi? It’s just school pickup. Not a trip to the dentist or God forbid, the PTA bake sale.”

“Ah, I guess I’m just feeling a little out of place. New environment and all that, new set of parents to befriend and teachers to impress,” says Youngho, finishing with a feeble chuckle that sounds contrived even to his own ears.

It’s clear that Victoria doesn’t buy it but she wisely opts not to comment.

They arrive at the classroom just as the bell rings. Youngho stands back amidst the cacophony, waiting until most of the kids and their parents have left. It gives him a chance to take a good, long look at Taeil, who’s hunched over his desk, presumably poring over tomorrow’s lesson plan.

It reminds him of the days they used to spend at the school library, Youngho desperately cramming while Taeil, well-prepared as always, reproached him for studying at the last minute. The sunlight streaming in through the library window would hit Taeil at all the right angles, bathing him in a faint golden hue. 

A similar scene is before him now, yet the circumstances are so different.

“Daddy!”

Youngho snaps out of his trance to see Mark barreling toward him. He bends down and easily catches his son, setting him on his hip. “Hey, buddy,” he greets. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah. I know how to spell my own name now!” Mark informs him, all puffed up.

“Awesome.” From the corner of his eye, Youngho could see Taeil watching their interaction like a hawk. “Hey, why don’t you hang out with Teacher Kim for a bit? I need to talk to Teacher Moon about something.”

“Okay.”

After Mark rushes off, Youngho turns to face Taeil, who’s trying to appear nonchalant but failing spectacularly, if one were to judge based on the tremble of his hands.

“Do you mind? Outside in the hallway. Just five minutes.”

“Sure,” Taeil replies quietly.

The hallway is devoid of people, which Youngho is thankful for should their conversation go south.

Taeil stops right outside the door, unwilling to go any further. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing specific,” Youngho admits. “I just think we… got off on the wrong foot and I didn’t want it to affect Mark.”

“Of course it won’t. He’s my student, just like the others. Having you as a dad changes nothing.”

Youngho doesn’t know if the remark is meant to hurt, but it does.

“I swear I didn’t know you work here,” he continues. “I didn’t think of cross-checking with the others. It’s entirely based on my colleague’s—”

“—recommendation. I know.” Taeil sticks his hands into his back pockets, loosening the aggressive stance a little. “Taeyong told me.”

“Right.”

When it becomes evident that Taeil has nothing else to say, Youngho grapples for a point of conversation. “You’ve always wanted to become a teacher, even back then,” he blurts out. “I’m glad you did it.”

“You remember.” Youngho is selfishly glad that Taeil sounds surprised.

“I do.”

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Taeil says, “And what about you? Did you achieve your dreams in America?”

_Was it worth it?_

“I don’t know,” answers Youngho, finding no point in lying, “but I got Mark out of it. And he’s the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

Taeil nods stiffly. “You don’t have to worry about Mark. He’s in good hands.” He glances behind him, where Mark is constructing a LEGO tower with Jungwoo. “And he’s a great kid. You did well.”

The statement is sincere but oddly melancholic, for reasons Youngho can’t quite pinpoint.

“Truth be told, I came here to propose a truce for us to start over from square one. Realistically, that’s not an option, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“But for Mark’s sake?”

The drawn lines of Taeil’s expression soften. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

In an effort to keep things light, Youngho jokes, “So does this mean you won’t try to bludgeon me to death in front of our friends at the next group hangout?”

“I’m pretty sure if there’s any bludgeoning to be done, it’d be the other way around.”

“I could never hurt you.”

There are a few beats of silence.

“Not even after I hurt you?” 

“No.” Youngho’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Not even then.”

Taeil gazes at him, eyes wet.

Rapid footsteps approach them, scattering the tension into thin air. Youngho sees a little girl, maybe about seven years old if he were to guess. She’s decked out in a crisp school uniform, hair pulled into two neat braids.

“Hi, Dad,” she says merrily. “The field trip finished early so Ms. Jeon dropped me off here.”

 _Dad_.

So this is it, the big secret their friends have been harboring. Taeil has a daughter, was probably even married at some point. Something hot and painful twists in Youngho’s gut, though he supposes he shouldn’t be this affected since he himself also had a child with someone else.

There’s also the fact that Taeil was the one who ended their relationship, if it could even be called that. Surely, it must’ve been easy for him to build a life – a _family_ – with another person. It’s not like he had to spend the last ten years pining after someone he can’t have. 

He takes a peek at Taeil, who is ghostly pale.

“Dad?” the girl repeats, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes flit to Youngho for a split second before refocusing on Taeil. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Taeil tells her, though his voice is faint. “Why don’t you wait inside with Uncle Jungwoo, honey? I’ll be done in a bit.”

His daughter obeys, entering the classroom to Jungwoo’s delighted greeting.

“So you have a daughter.”

“And you have a son. Are we stating facts here?” says Taeil, his posture suddenly rigid.

Youngho laughs. “Touchy,” he comments. “Her other parent – are they still in the picture?” He isn’t sure if he’d like the answer but he asks anyway, even if it’s not his place to.

“It’s complicated.”

“Ah. Still, welcome to the Single Dad Club.”

“One I’d rather not belong to, if I’m being honest.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

Taeil snorts, amused, but he seems antsy, like he has an itch in a spot he can’t reach.

Taking pity on him, Youngho announces, “Alright, time for us to go. I have to get back to work.” The relief on Taeil’s face is plain as day, and it’s hard for Youngho to not feel snubbed. He tamps it down.

“Like I said, don’t worry about Mark. I’ll make sure he’s cared for.”

“I’m sure you will.” After a pause, Youngho adds, “It was good to see you again, Taeil.”

Taeil gives him a half-smile that is either wistful, or a product of wishful thinking on his part.

“It’s good to see you too, Youngho.”

“So you guys left out the tiny fact that Taeil has a kid.”

Jaehyun halts his movement. A fat drop of blue paint slides off the roller and drips onto the floor, which they luckily had the foresight to cover in plastic beforehand.

“I remember Taeyong telling you there were things we couldn’t explain on Taeil’s behalf,” he says carefully, resuming the painting job.

“I just don’t understand why it has to be a huge secret. It’s not a bad thing. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Sighing, Jaehyun puts the paint roller down.

“You know Taeil has always been a private person, and that increased tenfold after Yeri was born, I guess. Nobody really knows exactly what happened. All he told us was that he’s having a baby and as friends, we just… took it from there and tried to help him out as much as we could.”

 _Yeri_. Youngho thinks it’s a sweet name.

“I’m glad he had you guys,” Youngho murmurs. “It couldn’t have been easy doing it alone.”

“It couldn’t have been easy for you either.” The look Jaehyun shoots at him is pensive, edged with sympathy. “You were alone too.”

Youngho inhales sharply, taken aback by the remark. Seldom do people realize that the starting point of his solitary life began when Mark was born, not on the day Krystal left, and contrary to popular belief, the bed could feel empty even when someone’s there. 

“At least _you’re_ not,” Youngho teases, purposefully changing the subject. “Doyoung seems like a great guy.”

“Doyoung _is_ a great guy.”

They swivel to find Doyoung in the doorway, leering at them. “Thank you for the lovely comment, Youngho,” he chirps. “How’s the painting going?”

“It’s going,” says Jaehyun lamely.

“If you guys can finish the nursery before her third birthday, that would be fantastic.”

“Ha- _ha_.” Jaehyun scowls at his fiancé. “Now get out of here. The paint fumes aren’t good for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Doyoung turns to Youngho. “Can you believe just how overprotective he is? I can’t do anything around here,” he complains.

“Actually, I think I’m with Jae on this one.” Youngho shrugs apologetically. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Fine. I know when I’m outnumbered,” Doyoung says, pouting a little. “I’ll just get started on lunch then.”

As Doyoung makes to leave, Jaehyun tugs on his hand and pulls him closer. They share the briefest of kisses, Jaehyun’s fingers brushing lightly against his fiancé’s belly. Their daughter isn’t even born yet but she’s already surrounded by more love than she could ever dream of. 

The covert intimacy of it is overwhelming, and Youngho feels a raw ache swell within him.

“So much to do, so little time,” Jaehyun muses with a shake of his head once Doyoung has waddled out of the room. “In the early days, nine months seemed like an eternity but when you’re actually going through it, time seems a lot shorter than it is.”

“I remember what that felt like,” says Youngho. “Mark was born three weeks early, so we were definitely not ready. I bought his car seat an hour before we were going to take him home.”

Barking out a laugh, Jaehyun mocks, “Sounds like something you would do.”

“You’d do the same thing if you weren’t with someone as organized as Doyoung.”

“Can’t deny that.” Jaehyun grins wryly. “I’m glad you’re back, man. It’s nice to have a dad friend I could talk to.”

“You have Taeil.”

“Well, it’s different. He carried Yeri. You were like me – on the outside looking in.”

“Fair enough.” Youngho tries not to think about how Taeil looked when he was pregnant. Was his partner attentive? Did he attend every doctor’s appointment, wake up at 2 am to fulfill his cravings, hold his hand throughout the entire delivery?

“Did you guys ever meet him?” Youngho asks, when Jaehyun is in the midst of cracking open a fresh can of paint.

“Meet who?”

“Yeri’s other parent.”

Jaehyun huffs. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to talk about this,” he says slowly, glancing at Youngho with pity. “What’s done is done. Don’t be a masochist, Youngho.”

“I just want to know. All that happened while I was away.”

There are conflicting emotions warring on Jaehyun’s face, none of which Youngho is capable of reading, save for the slightest tinge of guilt.

“Yeah, we’ve met him.”

“Were they married?”

“No.”

“Does he still see Taeil and Yeri?”

“…Something like that.” It stings Youngho a little to learn that the mystery man is still in the picture, even if it’s not in a significant capacity.

When he senses that Youngho is gearing up to expel more questions, Jaehyun puts up a hand to stop him. “I think that’s enough, dude. Knowing all this isn’t going to help you. And if there’s anything you want to know more about, you should ask Taeil yourself.”

Youngho can’t help but scoff. “You’re acting like the man doesn’t absolutely _despise_ me, Jaehyun.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He basically told me to fuck off and never breathe the same air as him again.”

“People change. So did you.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Youngho starts to unroll the butterfly-printed wallpaper for the sake of having something to do, although the walls haven’t even dried yet.

“Besides,” Jaehyun continues, “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“You can’t possibly believe that bullshit.”

“Well, that’s for him to know, and for you to find out.”

Taeil is unsure whether he’s still dreaming but since he can feel himself being pinned down by a suspiciously familiar weight, he figures sleep has left him. 

“It’s too early for this, Yeri,” he mumbles, blindly putting a hand out to reach for his daughter. “What do you want?”

“To go to the playground.”

He cracks a bleary eye open and glances at his phone. “It’s 7 am in the morning. On a _Saturday_.”

Yeri glares at him mulishly. She’s even showered, hair brushed and everything. “You promised,” she insists.

“I promised we would go but I didn’t say we’d go in the morning.”

“ _Dad_ ,” whines Yeri, lower lip jutting out. “Please?”

Taeil can’t remember the last time he got to sleep in on a weekend. Was it before he went to college? Probably.

“Alright.” Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Taeil shoves his blanket aside. Yeri clambers off the bed happily. “Go eat a bowl of cereal while I shower. And _not_ the sugary kind, either.” She nods eagerly, prepared to make a concession since she got the better part of the deal.

Some thirty minutes later, Taeil finds himself seated on a wooden bench, nursing instant coffee in a travel mug while his kid scampers around the playground. For what it’s worth, the weather is nice and they’re early enough that the only people around are joggers. It helps soothe his irritation at being woken up at a godforsaken hour on a weekend.

“Look at me, Dad!” Yeri yells at him from the monkey bars.

“I see you, baby. Nice job.”

Taeil thinks exhaustion is part of his personality at this point but if this is what makes his daughter happy, so be it. He owes it to Yeri to do right by her, especially when he’s deprived her of so much.

From the corner of his eye, he sees two figures approach the gates to the playground, a tall man and a small boy. He doesn’t have to look twice to know it’s Youngho and Mark.

Because of course it is. It’s established by now that Taeil has the worst fucking luck in the world.

“Hi, Teacher Moon!” Mark greets him, albeit somewhat shyly. He’s probably surprised to see his teacher outside school. Youngho stands a few feet behind him.

“Hello, Mark,” replies Taeil warmly. He has grown rather fond of the boy, in spite of the situation. Mark is polite, painfully sweet and downright _adorable_. He understands now why Yuta adores him and Taeyong is so fiercely protective of him.

He graces Youngho with a brusque nod. “Youngho.”

“Taeil.” Youngho smiles openly at him, undeterred by the frosty reception. “You’re up early on a Saturday morning.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“We’re just on our way to breakfast. There’s a nice café down the block.”

“They have special pancakes that I really like,” Mark rambles. “Daddy takes me there every weekend.”

Chuckling, Youngho ruffles his son’s hair. “Just a little treat since you work so hard at school the whole week. Has he been, Taeil? Working hard, I mean.”

“Of course,” confirms Taeil, beaming at Mark. “One of the most hardworking students I have.”

The boy looks down, toeing the dirt below his shoe bashfully.

“Well, I guess we’re going to head off now.” Youngho appears to hesitate before saying, “You and Yeri are welcome to join us, if you want.”

It’s the first time Youngho has acknowledged Yeri, and it startles Taeil. Sometimes he forgets that the two of them exist in the same space and time.

Before he could articulate the _no_ that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue, a voice pipes up, “I’d like to have breakfast.”

Taeil feels a headache coming on. “You already had breakfast,” he reminds his daughter, none too gently.

“But I’m hungry again.” Yeri blinks innocently at her father, then turns her attention to Youngho. “I’m Yeri,” she tells him.

“Hi, Yeri,” Youngho answers, looking terribly amused by her antics. “I’m Youngho, your dad’s friend from school. This is my son Mark, one of your dad’s students.”

“I know Mark. Hi, Mark!”

“Hi, Yeri-noona.” Mark seems pleased that she remembers him.

“So,” drawls Youngho, “since Yeri said she’s hungry, what do you think of the breakfast invitation?”

“It’ll be fun, Teacher Moon.” Mark gazes at him, all puppy eyes and hopeful excitement, and Taeil can’t find it in him to let Mark down even though sharing a meal with Youngho is the last thing on his agenda.

In an attempt to buy himself some time, he halfheartedly says, “You know you don’t have to call me ‘Teacher’ outside school, right?”

“Okay, _Uncle Taeil_. Will you and Yeri-noona have breakfast with me and Daddy?”

Dear God. This is Youngho’s kid through and through; effortlessly charming and impossible to resist.

“Well, I suppose so.”

Mark and Yeri cheer in unison. They walk in front of their dads, chattering a mile a minute. For the adults, the journey is every bit as awkward as Taeil expected it to be but Youngho is not dissuaded.

“Yeri seems like a great kid.”

“She is,” agrees Taeil, “when she’s not making full use of her smart mouth, that is.”

Youngho laughs. “You know what they say about little girls – sugar, spice and everything nice.”

“I think she’s a bit spicier than most.”

“She gets that from you.”

Ignoring the heat crawling up his collar, Taeil states, “Well, if we’re being honest, I don’t think I’ve been the best example. I’m always so snappy with her. I feel like she would fare a lot better with someone more patient and understanding.”

_Someone more like you._

“Hey, you’re doing the best you can,” murmurs Youngho, giving him a look of profound concern that makes him want to throw up. “I’m sure she knows that.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re the perfect dad.”

It’s a cheap shot and based on the slight frown marring Youngho’s forehead, he’s well aware.

“That’s not fair, Taeil. Everyone has their share of struggles and so do I.”

“I know,” Taeil rushes to say. “That was uncalled for, I’m sorry. I’m just bitter, I guess. Disillusioned.” He doesn’t have to explain himself and yet he does, because the trace of hostility in Youngho’s reply makes him deeply uncomfortable for reasons he can’t fathom.

“You’ve been dealt a bad hand, huh?” Youngho remarks.

“Without a doubt.”

“But your silver lining’s right there, smart mouth and all. Plus, she’s literally a copy of you, down to the attitude. It’s like you made her yourself.”

Alarm bells echo in Taeil’s head, warning him that they’re approaching dangerous waters.

“Of course I’m grateful for her, every day,” he says. “It’s just that some days…”

“…are tougher than most. I know.” Youngho grins ruefully. “Mark doesn’t ask about his mother often but when he does, I don’t know what to say. If she passed away or if she made it clear that she wanted nothing more to do with us, I’d at least have somewhere to start. Now we’re just left hanging.”

 _We_. Taeil feels a prickle of pain that he quickly clamps down on. 

“Youngho?”

“Hm?”

“You’re enough for him. You always will be.” It’s the truth. Although he’s been thrown a massive curveball, Mark is a loving and well-adjusted child, likely a result of the cushy life he’s led thanks to Youngho’s boundless care and affection.

“Surely, if you can say that to me, you can think the same of yourself,” says Youngho, glancing at him searchingly.

Taeil cannot. Someone as thoughtless and cruel as him doesn’t deserve to.

They reach the café, which gives him room to let the assertion go unanswered. Mark picks a table by the window, Yeri chooses a huge stack of pancakes for them to share, Youngho indulges them both. Taeil could only watch, the image dangling enticingly in front of him like a shiny new toy he can’t have.

Youngho leans against the buzzer, knowing just how much the continual noise annoys his friend. Since Seulgi is away visiting her parents, Taeyong invited him to go out for drinks and he’s looking forward to it. He doesn’t get one on one time with Taeyong all that often these days.

The door opens but to his surprise, it’s not Taeyong.

“Yeri?”

“Uncle Youngho, hi!”

Taeyong comes to a stop behind the girl, breathless. “Yeri, how many times do I have to tell you to ask me first before opening the door? Did you even ask who it was outside, like we always tell you to?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Close the door again.”

Blinking, Youngho stammers, “But I—”

“Go along with it. Yeri, close the door.”

Yeri groans but does as she’s told, shutting the door in Youngho’s face.

“Youngho, press the buzzer again,” Taeyong shouts from inside. Youngho complies with the instruction.

“ _Who is it_?” comes Yeri’s tiny voice, and Youngho can’t help but chortle.

“It’s me, Uncle Youngho,” he replies obediently.

“Are you a stranger, Uncle Youngho?”

“No, Yeri. We’ve met a few times and we had breakfast together, remember?”

There’s a pause before the door yawns open again, showing a satisfied Taeyong and a clearly exasperated Yeri.

“Thanks for participating in our little exercise,” says Taeyong. “Taeil is in the middle of teaching her ‘stranger danger’ and all that but it’s been… challenging.”

“I can see that. Why is she here anyway?”

“Taeil has a meeting so he asked me to pick her up from school. He’ll be done soon though, and we can leave after. Watch her while I get dressed?”

“Sure.”

Youngho joins Yeri on the couch after Taeyong retreats to his bedroom. ‘ _The Lion King_ ’ is playing on TV and Yeri is engrossed.

“This is my favorite Disney movie,” says Youngho.

“It’s mine too! And my dad’s.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Taeil liked this movie.”

“Not him.” Yeri shakes her head emphatically. “My other dad.”

And Youngho knows it’s not right for him to probe, especially when Yeri is a _child_ and is defenseless against him, but morbid curiosity wins. “You must spend a lot of time with him, then, if you both like the same movie.”

“I’ve never met him.” She says it matter-of-factly, like she’s become accustomed to telling it to people.

Youngho is stunned into silence, blindsided. “What do you mean?” he questions in an effort to make sense of the situation. Various pieces of information and stray bits of conversation whirl in his head, making him dizzy. His friends lied to him.

 _Taeil_ lied to him.

“Dad says he’s busy, so he can’t come back to meet me.” Yeri pouts a little but brightens when another thought crosses her mind. “Maybe you know him, Uncle Youngho.”

“How would I know your dad, sweetie?” His tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Because he’s in America too! He went there to study and then work and he’s busy. If you know him, you can tell him to come back and see me.”

His heart is drumming so hard and so fast that for a moment Youngho wonders if he’s actually having a heart attack.

“Yeri,” he begins, his fractured voice sounding alien to his own ears, “how old are you?”

He never properly asked. He only assumed, because she’s so _small_. The smokescreen of intricate lies his friends kept up has ensured he remains blind to what’s been under his nose the entire time.

“I just had my birthday in March.” Yeri smiles cheekily at him. “I’m nine years old now.”

Youngho stops breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be a big flashback, starting from their school days and leading up to current events!


	3. interlude: everything between our rise and fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter is a flashback that would (hopefully) explain why things in the present day are the way they are. 
> 
> the next chapter will pick up right where we left off in Chapter 2!

“I heard there’s a new student joining our class. Apparently he just moved here from Suwon.”

“And how did you hear that? Were you eavesdropping outside the teachers’ lounge again?” Taeyong shoots a thoroughly unimpressed look at his friend.

“ _No_ ,” replies Jaehyun, despite the telltale redness of his ears. “Well, it’s not really ‘eavesdropping’ if Principal Cha has a really loud voice, is it?”

“It’s not, but it _becomes_ eavesdropping once you stick around to listen to what the really loud voice is saying.”

“Stop bickering,” Youngho interjects, although he’s gotten used to their squabbling by now and even enjoys it to some extent. “Teacher Ji is right outside the door with the newbie.” From his seat, he can only see tufts of black hair.

“Ooh, is he cute?”

“ _Jaehyun_ ,” Taeyong huffs, annoyed. “Stop trying to hit on every person you see.”

Before Jaehyun could retort, their teacher strides into the classroom, high heels click-clacking noisily before coming to a stop behind her desk.

“Everyone, there is a new student joining our class,” Teacher Ji announces. “He just moved to Seoul from Suwon. I hope all of you will make him feel welcome and assist him should he need anything.” She turns toward the door. “Moon Taeil, come in, please.”

The new student enters the room with slow, measured steps. He faces the class and bows. “Hello, my name is Moon Taeil. I look forward to getting to know all of you.”

He straightens up, eyes flitting nervously around the room before resting on Youngho.

Youngho notes that the student – _Moon Taeil_ – is short in stature but not particularly lithe. There’s something solid in his build, a sharp arc to his jaw, though the rest of his features are soft, almost delicate. He’s pretty, Youngho notes.

“You’re staring,” mutters Taeyong under his breath.

Quickly snapping out of it, Youngho settles on a relaxed grin which Taeil returns, though his appears much more reluctant.

“Taeil, you can take the empty seat next to Suh Youngho over there,” instructs Teacher Ji. “Youngho, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind being a helpful classmate and showing Taeil around the school during lunchtime?” The incline of her head makes it apparent that she’s daring him to disagree with her suggestion.

“Of course not, Teacher,” Youngho responds dutifully. “I’d be glad to.”

“Good.”

While the teacher busies herself with rollcall, Youngho shifts his attention to Taeil. “Hey, I’m Youngho,” he tells him. “These are my friends, Jaehyun and Taeyong.”

Jaehyun waves, while Taeyong smiles politely.

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Taeil gnaws on his bottom lip, apprehensive. His dark bangs fall over his eyes. “I’m sorry that you got saddled with me, Youngho-ssi. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Youngho assures him, “and let’s drop the honorifics, hm? After all, we’ll be stuck with each other for a long time.”

Not one to be left out of a conversation, Jaehyun leans forward in his chair. “You can have lunch with us later if you want.”

“That’d be really nice,” says Taeil, cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”

“Give our ragtag bunch a try and see if you like it. Don’t worry, we won’t hold it against you if you ditch us later on,” Youngho jokes. _But I hope you won’t_.

Taeil laughs, and Youngho can’t help but think it’s a good look on him.

“No,” Taeil murmurs, smiling tentatively at him. “I don’t think I will.”

It doesn’t take long for Taeil to realize that he had unintentionally become a part of the cool crowd. Youngho, Jaehyun and Taeyong are _popular_. If their ridiculously good looks aren’t enough of an indicator, their extracurricular activities of choice vouch for their fame. Youngho and Jaehyun are athletes, stars of the basketball team, and Taeyong is an incredibly gifted dancer.

Taeil is… well, he’s their groupie, he supposes.

At any rate, he’s grateful that despite their elite status in the school’s social standing, all three of them are genuinely nice human beings. They’re never mean and get along with everyone, teachers and staff included, though Jaehyun could be too mischievous at times and Taeyong is rather aloof, and Youngho—

“Penny for your thoughts?”

—is sitting right across him, a playful smirk on his lips.

“No thoughts,” says Taeil, tossing a stray seaweed strip at him. “Mind your own business.”

“Cranky.”

Taeyong looks up at both of them, momentarily distracted from the book he’s reading, and arches an eyebrow. “Gee, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife,” he quips flatly. 

“I wish.” Heaving a dramatic, exaggerated sigh, Youngho props his chin up with the heel of his hand. “Do you really think someone like _the_ Moon Taeil would even spare a glance at someone like me? I don’t think so.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Taeil stretches a foot underneath the table to kick him but of course, Youngho deflects it with ease. “Show-off.”

Youngho sticks out his tongue, then laughs obnoxiously. Taeil tries not to feel endeared by it.

Metal trays slam against the table, signaling the arrival of Jaehyun and Nakamoto Yuta, the newest addition to their motley crew. He’s Japanese, the prodigal son of some ambassador or other, and mildly intimidating.

“What took you guys so long?” Taeyong asks, flipping to another page of his book.

“We were already on our way here when we got stopped by Hyoyeon-sunbae.” Jaehyun is preening. “She asked me if I wanted to go to a movie sometime.”

Youngho lets out a whistle. “So a senior asked you out,” he comments. “Not bad, Jae.”

“Still can’t beat your little fling with Oh Sehun, unfortunately.”

As much as he tries to fly under the radar, Taeil, like every other person in their school, knows Oh Sehun, the record-breaking swimmer with a handsome face and an unfairly broad chest. He’s a year older than they are and more admired by the masses than all of his friends combined.

Of course Youngho would be interested in Sehun, and vice versa. Birds of a feather flock together.

“I didn’t know you dated Oh Sehun,” Yuta says, curiosity piqued.

“We didn’t ‘date’, exactly. We just saw each other a lot over the summer and decided to hang out—”

“— _make_ out—” supplies Jaehyun unhelpfully.

“—but that’s about it. We still spend time together every once in a while. He’s a chill dude.”

As if on cue, Sehun and his posse saunter past their table. “Youngho,” Sehun calls out over his shoulder. “We’re on for tomorrow night, right?”

“For sure. See you.” Youngho smiles, eyes trained on Sehun. Taeil is oddly sickened by the sight. He shoves some rice into his mouth in hopes that it would make the ugly feeling churning in his gut go away.

Once Sehun and his friends are far enough that they wouldn’t be able to overhear, Jaehyun leers at Youngho. “What’s happening tomorrow night, huh?”

Youngho rolls his eyes. “We’re going bowling, that’s all,” he explains.

“Like a date?” Yuta teases.

“Not a date, asshole. A bunch of his friends will be there.”

Before any more snarky comments can be made, Taeyong puts his book down. “I thought we were going over to Taeil’s tomorrow night,” he says. “You know, to test out the food he’s making for his sister’s birthday party this weekend. We agreed to be your guinea pigs, right?” He bumps shoulders with Taeil.

“Ah.” Taeil can feel his face burning. “I… totally forgot about that. It’s fine if Youngho misses out. The rest of you will be there anyway.”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that,” groans Youngho. “I’ll just text Sehun and rain check. No big deal.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Don’t be dumb!” Taeil squeaks, clamping a hand over Youngho’s phone. “You can’t cancel on _Oh Sehun_ because of me.”

“And why not?”

“You just… can’t.”

As expected, Youngho is unconvinced by his reasoning. “I made plans with you first before I made plans with him, and it’s my fault for not checking to see if they overlap.” He gently unlatches Taeil’s fingers from his phone but keeps his hands around them nonetheless. “You’re my friend, Taeil. You’ll always come first. Sehun’s just a senior.”

Taeil wonders if Youngho can feel the quickening of his pulse. 

“How romantic,” chirps Yuta, popping open a can of soda. “No wonder you get all the guys and girls.”

“There, there, young grasshopper. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jaehyun brings up some soccer game or other, which garners both Youngho’s and Yuta’s attention, and the focus is diverted elsewhere, much to Taeil’s relief. He pokes at his lunch, contemplating on whether there’s still room in his stomach for the last bit of kimchi.

“Taeil,” Taeyong whispers, so quiet that he almost misses it.

“Hm?”

“You’re not fooling anybody. Might want to be more careful next time.”

“I’m going to flunk this test.”

“You’re not going to flunk this test.”

“I’m gonna.”

“You’re not,” Taeil repeats, scribbling notes along the margins of his textbook. “You’re stressing yourself out unnecessarily, Youngho.”

Youngho scoffs, leaning back as far as the chair would allow him. “That’s easy for you to say,” he remarks. “You’re like, _smart_.”

“Well, last I checked you weren’t exactly stupid.” There’s mirth dancing in Taeil’s eyes as he continues, “Academically, I mean. As a human being? The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Wow, you’re hilarious,” Youngho deadpans. “You should be a comedian.”

“No, I want to be a teacher.”

The admission is soft, unexpectedly serious in the present setting. Youngho finds that he can imagine it: Taeil standing before a roomful of lively children, listening to each of them with infinite patience, narrating the same thing over and over again with a fortitude that only he could muster.

“It suits you, I think. You’d be good at it.”

Taeil blushes, pink and pleased. “You think so?”

“If you can teach me algebra, then you can teach anyone anything, trust me.”

“And what about you? Professional basketball player?”

“Sure, maybe in an alternate universe,” chuckles Youngho, scratching the back of his neck, “but realistically, I’d just like to get a good college education. All I know is that I want to study in America.”

Taeil clears his throat, lips drawn into a tight line. “America is so far away, though,” he says without looking up from his notes. The faux indifference rankles Youngho just the slightest bit.

“Isn’t that the whole point? The American dream and all that.”

“Is the American dream worth being apart from your family and friends?”

“Hey, if you’re going to miss me, just say so.” Youngho grins dopily, hoping that it would take the edge off some. “You know I’ll miss you.”

“Just me?” snorts Taeil, lifting his eyebrows.

“All of you, of course.” _But you most of all._

There seems to be a touch of disappointment in Taeil’s expression but it’s so minuscule and fleeting that Youngho convinces himself it’s just a trick of the light. Cudgeling his brains about something that’s likely only a product of wishful thinking would do him no good. His feelings are already tumultuous and confusing as they are.

“Taeil-sunbae?”

They snap their heads up in unison to find a nervous freshman standing by their table.

“Jeno,” Taeil greets the boy with a pleasant smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good. And hello to you too, Youngho-sunbae.” The kid bows, clumsy and hurried. “Taeil-sunbae, I just came to tell you that I got a B+ on the geography test you tutored me for. Thank you so much for all your help.” He hands a thin stack of papers to Taeil, who beams as he accepts and peruses it.

“This is wonderful, Jeno. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it; all I did was give you a push in the right direction.”

“You’re too kind,” Jeno squeaks, blushing furiously. “It was all you, really.”

“Nonsense! You’re smart and it’s about time you realize it. Let me know when you’re free and I’ll treat you to a meal.”

If he were a lesser man, Youngho would have laughed at how Jeno’s eyes nearly fall out of his head, but he doesn’t because he knows Taeil wouldn’t take kindly to it. 

“Are you s-serious, sunbae?”

“Of course,” affirms Taeil. “Text me anytime, hm?”

Stars in his eyes, Jeno nods and squeals _I will_ before scuttling off. Youngho waits until he’s rounded the corner and disappeared before turning suggestively to Taeil.

“That boy totally has a crush on you.”

“Don’t be an ass,” sighs Taeil. “He’s just thankful because I helped him study.”

“Taeil, he was _simpering_ at you.” Youngho doesn’t know why he’s pushing the issue so much because ultimately, it doesn’t matter, but something stirs in him, seeking validation. He finds himself hoping that Taeil would brush it off, tell him that Jeno is just a kid and nothing more.

Instead, what he gets is a heated, “What, you think someone having a crush on me is such a foreign concept?”

Youngho is so taken aback by the remark that he just gapes, open-mouthed, but Taeil takes it as some form of agreement and barrels on, “I know half the school would fall to your feet and give you the moon if you even so much as _ask_ but is it so hard to believe that there are people out there who would be interested in someone like me?”

His eyes are jagged, flickering with hurt that makes Youngho recoil.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he hedges, trying to be soothing but sounding more panicked than anything. “I just think it’s… cute that he has a crush on you.”

“’Cute’,” Taeil repeats, scathing.

“Wait, what do you mean by what you said? That it’s hard to believe anyone would be interested in someone like you?”

Taeil visibly deflates, seeming like he’s collapsing in on himself. “You know what I mean,” he mumbles, refusing to look Youngho in the eye. His cuticles are suddenly the most captivating thing in the world.

“No, actually, I don’t,” says Youngho firmly. “Care to explain?”

Taeil curls his head to his shoulder, whining incoherently in hopes Youngho would let him off the hook, but he’s not so lucky.

“Come on, Taeil. Tell me.”

“It’s just… I know you know how people see you. You’re tall, you’re hot, you’re smart. You play basketball. You rescue puppies from gutters. Everyone loves you.” Swallowing, Taeil whispers, "And I’m just me.”

Unable to resist, Youngho prods, “So you think I’m hot?”

“ _Youngho_!”

Youngho snickers. “Sorry.” He gazes at Taeil, taking in the worried furrow of his brow, the downturned curve of his mouth. Even now, ill at ease as he may be, he’s still beautiful. A concoction of fondness and yearning flutters deep within Youngho, repressed by caution. “But I hope you know that you’re not ‘just’ you. You’re _you_ and that’s more than enough.”

“You’re my friend, so you have to say that,” says Taeil, though his cheeks are reddening.

“Maybe, but I mean it too. You’re special, Taeil. I hope one day you’ll see it for yourself.”

Their eyes lock, and Youngho doesn’t think he has ever seen so much force in Taeil’s stare before. Emotions at war and sentiments heavy, Youngho feels unnerved because he knows a line has been crossed, even if the line is invisible to everyone else but him.

“But what about today?” Taeil questions. His tone is light, casual, yet there’s an undercurrent that Youngho can’t quite place.

“Today you only have me to tell you that you’re special, unfortunately.”

“Just today?”

“Nah,” Youngho retorts. “Forever and two days, of course.”

Ducking his head, Taeil returns to his homework. “Then I don’t think that’s a bad deal at all.”

Youngho is only halfway through sixteen, at a juncture where life could only offer him reservations instead of answers, but in that moment, when Taeil purses his lips in that way he does when he’s trying not to smile, twiddling fingers wrapped around the pencil he insisted Youngho buy for him just last week, Youngho knows for certain that if there is such a thing as love, this is pretty close to it.

The curtains fall, the roar of applause ringing in his ears, and Taeil finally lets himself breathe.

“We did it, Taeil-ah,” Sunyoung says, beaming despite their shared exhaustion. She’s one of his few friends outside his usual circle and arguably one of the most talented singers he’s ever met – a good combination for a duet partner, if he could say so himself.

“Nice job, Sunyoung-ah.” They share a hug, laughing with uncontained elation and relief.

“So, who came to see you perform tonight?”

“Just Taeyong, I think,” Taeil says, hoping he doesn’t sound as disappointed as he feels. “My moms and sister went back to Suwon to visit my grandparents.”

Sunyoung cocks her head to the side, seemingly baffled. “Oh? I could’ve sworn I saw Youngho in the crowd.”

“That’s impossible.” Shaking his head, Taeil explains, “He and the rest of the team are at a training camp. They’re staying overnight.”

“Huh. My mistake, then.”

Before they could continue their conversation, Sunyoung gets swept away by her friends and Taeil is left standing alone in the off-stage cacophony, a little out of his depth.

“There’s our star!”

He swivels to meet Taeyong’s voice but instead comes face to face with both Taeyong _and_ Youngho.

“Uh,” Taeil flounders dumbly, “you came.” He feels hot all over and the look Youngho levels him with, all proud and soft around the edges, does little to alleviate it.

“Didn’t I tell you I was?” Taeyong says, confused. Then the realization dawns on him and he rolls his eyes. “Oh, you mean _this_ guy. Well, I don’t think you’ll be happy once you find out the stunt he pulled to get here.”

“Can you not ruin the moment?” hisses Youngho.

Taeil frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Youngho, why are you here and not at the training camp in Yongin like you’re supposed to be?”

“…The camp got canceled?”

“Try again.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Youngho lets out a strained chuckle. “Hah, so I _might_ have told Coach Ryu that I have a bit of a headache. He told me to take a couple of hours off to… recuperate.”

Taeil gasps and hits Youngho on the arm, hard. To Youngho’s credit, he doesn’t even try to block the punch despite having probably seen it coming from a mile away thanks to his ridiculous reflexes.

“You’re going to get into so much trouble! What were you _thinking_?”

“I told you he’d be pissed,” Taeyong tells Youngho, inappropriately gleeful in the circumstances.

“I’m not going to get into trouble.” Youngho makes it a point to speak as placatingly as he could. “Jaehyun is covering for me and he won’t blow it. He owes me one since I hid him from his parents after he got shitfaced drunk at Hwang Miyoung’s party a couple weeks back.”

“If Coach Ryu finds out—”

“—which he won’t—”

“—he’ll be _livid_. What if he kicks you off the team?”

“You know the man loves me. He’ll do no such thing.” Taeil knows he should find Youngho’s cocky smirk infuriating but instead, it’s infuriatingly attractive.

“And besides,” says Youngho, features unfurling into something tender, “even if he does kick me off the team, it was worth it to see you perform tonight. You were amazing, Taeil. I never knew you could sing like that.”

Unused to such attention, and unwilling to accept that such attention is coming from Youngho, Taeil tries to shrug it off. “It’s no big deal,” he mumbles.

“Oh, shut up,” Taeyong scoffs. “You were the best one out there and everybody knew it.”

A small smile curves a corner of Taeil’s lips upward. “I guess I _was_ pretty great.”

“The greatest,” Youngho confirms, indulgent as ever. Only then does Taeil notice that Youngho has kept his hands hidden behind his back the entire time they’ve been speaking. Before he could say anything about it, Youngho moves his arms and is suddenly wielding a massive bouquet.

“These are for you.” Youngho is fidgety, uncharacteristically shy. His earlier confidence seems to have dissolved into thin air. “I didn’t really know what to get but I hope you like them anyway.”

“Oh,” Taeil utters. He takes in the flowers, which are just a touch wilted and most likely inexpensive but they are vibrant, in all his favorite colors. He tries not to let his thoughts go into overdrive. In an alternate universe, a different dimension, perhaps this gesture would mean something.

But in this moment, Youngho is his friend, and he is lucky to have one so supportive. That’s all he allows himself to think.

“I got them at this corner store near the training camp, and then they got a little squashed on the train, so—”

“No.” Doubt is an unpleasant, foreign concept to see on Youngho. Taeil will be damned if he’s the cause of it. “These are perfect. Thank you.”

Youngho smiles at him, content and reassured, and Taeil feels like his heart could burst.

“Hey, Youngho, don’t you have to go?” says Taeyong. “If you miss the train, even Jaehyun can’t save you. Coach Ryu will light your ass on fire.”

“Shit, I do have to leave.” Taking a glimpse at his watch, Youngho shakes his head. “If I run, I just might make it to the station in time.” He pouts, contrite, but Taeil waves him off before he could start apologizing in earnest.

“Go,” Taeil encourages. “We’ll celebrate another time, when the others are around too.”

“Mm, you’re the best. I’ll see you guys soon!”

Youngho jogs off and promptly disappears into the throng of people lingering backstage. Taeil feels a stab of longing, even if it’s only been less than a minute since he left.

“How long do I have to stick around and bear witness to this?”

Startled, Taeil turns to face Taeyong. “Bear witness to what?”

“This… this _ritual_ between you and Youngho. Like a mating dance or something.” Taeyong shudders. “It’s weird as hell and it’s stressing me out.”

“Not so loud!” mutters Taeil, hastily looking around them to make sure no one overheard.

“What’s the problem? Everyone knows he likes you. You like him too, so this would be an ideal situation for anyone, really.” 

“He _doesn’t_ like me.”

“Right,” answers Taeyong, incredulous. “Anyone would lie to their coach, skip an important basketball practice, buy flowers and hop on a thirty-minute train ride just to see someone they _don’t_ like perform at the school concert.”

Taeil is sure he is red from the tips of his ears down to his toes by now but he refuses to relent. “He’s just being a good friend. He would do that for any of us, even you.”

Taeyong stares at him in complete disbelief. “I think,” he eventually says, “you and I have very different ideas on what friendship is, Taeil.”

“Just… don’t. Okay? I can’t afford to get my hopes up.”

It is obvious that Taeyong is beyond frustrated, if one were to deduce from the way he’s massaging the bridge of his nose, but all he does is sigh.

“One day, you and Youngho are going to figure this shit out and the world will be a better place for it.”

The door to the locker room is slammed open so hard, it bounces back and nearly hits Youngho in the face. He figures Taeil wouldn’t be all that sorry if it does.

“The first aid kit is in the cabinet to your right,” he says, voice nasally from the wad of tissues pressed against his nose.

“Shut up.”

“Taeil, I—”

“I _said_ , shut the fuck up.”

Since Taeil cursing is a rare occurrence, Youngho does as he’s told.

Anger rolls off Taeil in waves, seeping into every corner and crevice. It’s stifling and Youngho finds himself desperately wishing he were anywhere else.

Taeil is standing on his tiptoes, fingers flexing to reach the first aid kit. The cabinet is pretty high up, the janitor having been mindful of the fact that it’s to be used by the basketball team, which is unfortunate for Taeil, who is struggling.

“Do you ne—”

“I got it,” is the brusque reply Taeil gives him. After a few more attempts, he manages to seize the box and bring it down. “Sit up. Let’s fix that cut.”

“Listen,” Youngho exhales, wincing at the clipped tone. “You don’t have to help me with this if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re going to patch up that busted eyebrow by yourself?” Taeil challenges. “Your nose still hasn’t stopped bleeding. And your left eye is going to be the size of a golf ball when you wake up in the morning.”

Overwrought and suddenly tired of the hostile treatment he’s receiving, Youngho snaps.

“Well, anything would be better than being here with you, if all you’re going to do is just _lecture_ me. I don’t even know why you’re so fucking pissed.”

If Taeil was angry before, now he’s positively fuming. “You don’t know why I’m pissed?” he demands, an octave higher.

“No,” Youngho retaliates, unflinching. “I don’t. The fight had nothing to do with you. You just happened to be there and saw what happened.”

“You got in an altercation with the mayor's son! Can you imagine what would have happened if a teacher saw you and Park Chanyeol trying to kill each other? You’re lucky it was me.”

“So we threw a couple of punches. Fist fights aren’t uncommon here, Taeil.”

“The two of you fought over _Oh Sehun_ , which makes it a more sensational fight than most.” Trembling with fury, Taeil points a finger at him. “Being involved with Sehun has brought nothing but trouble for you, even if he’s aready graduated.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m not _involved_ with him!”

“Well, his fucking _boyfriend_ thought otherwise and decided to punch you in the face, Youngho!”

“Chanyeol isn’t even his boyfriend,” Youngho explains, though he knows it’s a weak excuse. As expected, Taeil pounces on it immediately.

“That makes the whole thing worse, then. You got tangled in somebody’s ‘non-relationship’ and got hurt because of it.”

They glare at each other, Taeil standing up and Youngho sitting down, until Taeil breaks off with a huff and starts rifling through the first aid kit. “I really don’t think popularity is worth it if this is the price you have to pay,” he mumbles, fixated on a pack of antiseptic wipes. “You could have gotten seriously injured. God knows what else Chanyeol would have done if I didn’t get there just in time.”

“He wouldn’t have done anything,” Youngho says. “I could’ve handled him.”

“Youngho.” Taeil gazes at him, looking weary. “Chanyeol was pummeling you to the _ground_. One wrong move and he could have hurt you enough for you to kiss basketball goodbye. And just so you know, Principal Cha was right around the corner, and you could kiss your _education_ goodbye if he had caught you guys.”

Now that the severity of the situation has been presented to him, Youngho is loath to make any further comments.

“So is it still worth it? Your arrangement with Sehun?” Every word is venomous, spit out resentfully.

Sighing, Youngho says, “The ‘arrangement’ is friendship, Taeil. Like you and me.”

“We’re _nothing_ like you and him,” Taeil refutes, insulted.

“So what is the problem, exactly? Are you mad that I got into a fight, or are you mad that it was because of Sehun?”

Taeil gulps audibly, taken by surprise. “N-no,” he stammers. “I’m your friend, so of course I’m going to be mad if you do something dumb.” His cheeks are flushed; whether with muted rage or embarrassment, Youngho no longer knows.

What he does know is that the signs have all been there, indicating reciprocity, but he had never permitted himself to entertain the thought. Their bond, cherished as it may be, is brittle at the core of it. Youngho would much rather suffocate in his feelings than test out the theory that perhaps such feelings may not be unrequited after all, lest it tears their friendship to pieces.

But now, dizzy with pain and subjected to a strange acrimony that he doesn’t deserve, Youngho thinks he has nothing left to lose.

Taeil is looking downward at his hands in his lap, seated so close that Youngho can count every fine lash, every freckle.

“Taeil.”

“Hm?”

“Look at me.”

He does, forehead marred with a slight frown. “What?”

“If you don’t want this,” says Youngho, “please stop me.”

Understanding oozes into Taeil’s eyes, pupils blown wide open. There’s a nod, almost imperceptible, but Youngho catches it – so he leans forward and kisses him.

It hurts, really, because his nose is still bleeding and he can hardly see out of his left eye, but Youngho is unwilling to stop. Taeil is moving against him with fervor, lips soft and chapped at the same time, panting into his mouth, and Youngho finds himself wondering if this is all a cruel fever dream.

“You’re hurt, we shouldn’t—”

“If you want me to stop,” Youngho repeats, pulling away, “say it.”

Taeil stares at him, hazy with want. “I don’t want you to stop,” he confirms, shifting closer, his breath hot against Youngho’s neck. “Not ever.”

“Good.”

They fade into subliminal desire, losing consciousness into a chasm where nothing and no one exists save for them. 

Taeil supposes that given how rash they have been, every encounter driven by reckless abandon, this is a probable outcome. It was wrong for them to step off the ledge while still swamped by fear, leaving the complex nature of their relationship unaddressed. They keep up a façade in public but come together in secret, coming apart in each other’s arms.

Now there are double lines staring back at him, bright red and mocking.

“Well?” Even with the door separating them, Taeil can tell that Taeyong is nervously biting his lower lip. “What does it say?”

Taeil unlatches the door, shoves the pregnancy test in his friend’s hands. The blood drains from Taeyong’s face as his trembling palm cradles the offending item.

“Th-this could be a false positive,” he says. “This happened to my brother before, it could—”

Taeil pulls out the other two tests from his pocket and hand them over wordlessly.

“Oh. Oh, _fuck_. Taeil.” Taeyong gawks at him, eyes swimming with unadulterated shock and unconcealed pity, and Taeil feels sick.

“I’m going to be sick,” is all that he manages to wheeze out before clambering back into the stall and promptly hurling into the toilet bowl. He feels Taeyong’s hands against his back, steadying him with broad strokes, and he’s glad that he didn’t decide to do this alone after all.

“Just let it out. You’re okay.”

After some time, there’s nothing left in his stomach to emit, so Taeil flushes the toilet and puts the lid down, sitting on it. As all school bathrooms tend to be, this one is grimy, and it’s a testament to how good of a friend Taeyong is that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash, despite being a notorious clean freak.

“How long?”

“How long since what?”

“Since you and Youngho slept together.”

He can lie his way out of any situation, but never to Taeyong. The room starts to spin again. Taeil shuts his eyes.

“Three months, maybe, since the first time.”

Taeyong draws back, stunned. “It wasn’t a one time thing?”

“No,” replies Taeil. “A ‘many times’ thing, actually. Maybe even as recent as last Friday.”

“Fuck.”

“You don’t say.”

Silence falls over them like a blanket, both still processing the news on different spectrums.

“Are you ready to hear what I have to say now?” Taeyong volunteers, already back to his usual composed self.

“Sure. It’s not like I know what to do anyway.”

“I know you know that you have options,” begins Taeyong, treading with caution, “but in making your decision, you have to discuss it with Youngho. As much as I want to help you, I can’t. I can only help you once you’ve made your choice.”

“He’s going to hate me,” Taeil says thickly, feeling a hot tear leak out of his eye.

“He would never. You know that.”

“We’re eighteen, Taeyong. We’re about to graduate from high school. He has plans for his future, he wants to go to _America_. I don’t fit into any of that.” Taeil is openly sobbing by now, the deep anguish curdling in his gut overflowing.

Carefully, Taeyong pulls Taeil down from the toilet and onto the floor, cradling the latter like he would a child.

“I’ve known Youngho since we were thirteen, Taeil,” murmurs Taeyong. “He is flawed, and a total idiot if I were to be honest, but I know for a fact that he will never let you go through this by yourself. He cares for you so much and he is going to support anything you choose. If you want to… get rid of it, he’ll be there to hold your hand. If you want to keep it, he will give up everything to give _you_ everything.”

Taeil sniffles, mulling his friend’s words over in his addled mind.

“Overthinking is going to give you a lot of stress you don’t need.” Taeyong pats his head gently. “I think you should talk to him. Practice is finishing in another ten minutes, I think.”

“You want me to talk to him _now_?”

“Yes, _now_ , before you can chicken out.”

Taeil does his fair share of moaning and grumbling to get out of it but Taeyong is unyielding.

“I’ll wait for you in the cafeteria,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to Taeil, who accepts it. “Come and get me when you’re done talking to him, whichever way it goes.”

Once Taeil is done making himself look more alive and less like he just cried his eyeballs out, they head to the gym. He settles on the bench outside the double doors. Practice is still ongoing; he can hear the sharp squeaks of shoes against the polished floor, the sporadic yells and banter. If he focuses, maybe he can even hear Youngho.

His stomach roils.

“Remember – cafeteria.” Taeyong pointedly gestures to his phone. “Text me, call me, anything.”

“I know.”

With a final parting glance, Taeyong walks away.

Left to his own devices in the deserted hallway, heart pounding so hard he feels it vibrate in his throat, Taeil knows it’s only a matter of time before he loses himself to his murky thoughts.

Before he could, footsteps approach, accompanied by bits and pieces of conversation. He recognizes the voices of Coach Ryu and Teacher Park, their homeroom teacher.

“How has Youngho been doing in his classes?” Coach Ryu asks. Taeil sits up a little straighter at the mention of Youngho’s name.

“Fantastic. His results have been even better lately. Perfect scores across the board save for the occasional B+ but even that is rare these days.”

Coach Ryu makes a pleased sound. “I’m glad to hear that! A superstar on and off the basketball court, it seems.” There’s a pause before he continues, conspiratorially, “I’m close with his father and according to him, Youngho is planning to go to America to study.”

“Oh, that’s no secret,” Teacher Park retorts, giggling. “I already have his referral letter ready for his university application. It’s even endorsed by Principal Cha.”

“As it should be. That boy is going to go far, I’m telling you.”

“I’m sure.”

His brain short-circuits, breaths coming out harsh and uneven, and he can’t make sense of anything.

 _He will give up everything to give_ you _everything._

Taeil bolts. He doesn’t know where he’s running to but he knows what he’s running from: guilt and the truth.

Suh Youngho is one of a kind. He is handsome and good-natured, intelligent and talented beyond discernment. Life comes to him with ease, every piece falling into place as a perfect fit, yet he is never arrogant. He is patient and thoughtful even when he doesn’t have to be, benevolent even when he doesn’t feel like it.

He is one of a kind and Taeil loves him with every ounce of his being.

But he belongs to the great big world, and so Taeil cannot have him.

**_Meet me by the bleachers at 5?_ **

_sure. u ok?_

**_Yeah. Talk to you later._ **

Contrary to popular belief, Youngho isn’t _that_ dense. He’s aware that Taeil has been avoiding him for days now.

It chafes at him, being held at a distance, when the past three months have been a whirlwind of stolen kisses in empty classrooms and heated touches in tangled sheets. Every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is the flutter of Taeil’s eyelids as he comes, lips parting with a gasp, fingernails raking across the expanse of Youngho’s back.

There’s a lot to miss but even without it, Youngho longs for his friend, at least.

And that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it? That despite having mapped every inch of Taeil’s skin, familiarizing himself with every dip and every curve, Taeil is still just his _friend_ because Youngho is a despicable coward who is afraid of disrupting their fragile balance with his brimming emotions.

But they are officially graduating the day after tomorrow and before long, they’re about to step into the unforgiving real world, so Youngho decides that it’s now or never.

Youngho can’t afford another misstep. If he loses Taeil due to folly of his own design, he will never forgive himself. He knows now that there will never be another for him. The American dream is futile since his wildest dreams have been before him for years, embodied into Moon Taeil.

When 5 pm rolls around, Youngho makes his way toward the school field with a determination he has never felt before. He is no longer satisfied with the sex, the artificial guise of friendship they hide behind. He wants everything Taeil could offer him – the good, the bad, the ugly. He wants to _stay_.

He’s almost there now. Taeil is just a few feet away, his back toward him. 

“Taeil?” Youngho says, tentative. He’s almost nauseous with nerves, conscious of the fact that what he’s about to tell Taeil could change things between them forever.

Slowly, Taeil spins to look at him—

—and all at once, the words he had rehearsed so meticulously die in his throat. Taeil’s features are smoothed into something unreadable, so devoid of emotion that it’s like gazing at a statue. 

“Youngho.” His eyes are steely. “We need to talk.”

 _No_. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Youngho feels like his veins have been infused with ice.

“About what?” he hedges, not quite trusting himself to speak properly just yet.

“You _know_ what,” is the response he gets from Taeil, the tone grating. “Or have you forgotten that we’ve been fucking for the past three months?”

“Don’t call it that,” Youngho protests weakly. “It’s not just—”

“— _fucking_? Please. We both know what it was, what it _is_. Don’t make it something it’s not.” Arms crossed over his chest, Taeil stares at him impassively. “We’re graduating in two days, Youngho. I think it’s about time we stop this.”

“Stop _what_?” Surely, this entire scenario must be a hallucination. Youngho is disoriented, confused, because this is not Taeil. Something’s not right somewhere but he can’t pinpoint it.

“All of it,” says Taeil, curt. He turns away, like the very sight of Youngho revolts him. “The sex, the push and pull. It’s a waste of our time.”

“Taeil, what brought this on?” Youngho knows that he is close to begging and under normal circumstances, it would be beneath him, but he is at a loss. “I know we haven’t talked about what we are and that’s on me. We can talk now. _Please_. We can talk about us.”

Taeil rolls his eyes but this time it’s not with exasperated fondness. “There’s no _us_ , Youngho. There never was and there never will be. None of this is real.”

The ache settling in Youngho’s chest starts to boil, iron fists around his ribcage.

“There doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “but we’ve been friends for three years. Doesn’t that, at least, mean anything to you?”

Time stands still as Taeil weighs the question in his mind. For a split second, he seems to falter, but before Youngho could say anything, the ruthless mask is back on like it had never even slipped.

“I’m grateful for your friendship,” enunciates Taeil, clearly and precisely. “But you’re stupid if you think I would ever give you anything more.”

Youngho was _wrong_. The revelation knocks the breath of him, making him feel like he’s being choked by an invisible hand. There were no signs after all. He had made all of it up, born from his own selfish hunger, and Taeil had only gone along with it because sex is carnal and simple, and there is nothing else to it.

“I loved you.” He thinks he might be crying but Youngho isn’t that sure anymore. “And I-I thought—”

“—that I loved you too?”

Youngho lets out a whine, much like a wounded animal, and he’s in too much agony to even feel mortified by it. Everything is white hot, painful to the touch, and he thinks he’s seconds away from throwing up onto the manicured grass.

“You know, Youngho,” Taeil says softly, “maybe it’s a good thing after all that you’re going to America. There’s nothing left for you here.”

He walks off, leaving Youngho reeling and on his knees, heart crushed into dust.

Youngho skips the graduation ceremony. His phone blows up with calls and messages which he leave unanswered. His friends show up at his doorstep, only for his parents to turn them away with some half-assed excuse or other.

Three days later, Youngho is on a red-eye flight to Chicago, his slate wiped clean.

Thirty-two weeks and four days later, Yeri is born in Seoul.


	4. so I close my eyes to old ends

It’s the first time in ten years that their entire group will be together, so to say that Taeil is apprehensive would be a gross understatement.

“Is he even coming?” he asks Taeyong when the digital clock above the entrance rolls to 8.20 but Youngho and Mark are still nowhere to be seen.

“He should be.” Wrinkling his nose, Taeyong amends, “Actually, I’m not sure. After he bailed on me a couple of nights ago, he’s been really quiet. He did read my text, though.” He shifts to his right to look at Jaehyun. “Jae, you called Youngho earlier, right? Did he pick up?”

“Nope,” Jaehyun confirms, popping the ‘p’.

Taeil feels a foreboding chill settle into his bones. He knows that nothing is wrong per se; Mark hasn’t missed a day of school so far and remains his usual sunny self. He is, however, painfully aware that Youngho has been absent at pickup for the past few days.

“Dad, I thought you said Mark was gonna be here,” Yeri whines, putting her iPad down. “I only came because I thought I’d have a friend.”

“It doesn’t seem like he and Uncle Youngho are coming, honey.”

“Yeah, if they’re twenty minutes late, then they probably aren’t showing up.” Reaching for the menu, Yuta snaps it open. “We might as well go ahead and order. Doyoung’s stomach has been growling so loudly, I’m worried he’ll go into labor out of sheer hunger.”

Doyoung shoots Jaehyun a pointed look, and his fiancé swiftly slaps the back of Yuta’s head. Seulgi snorts, amused.

“Maybe we should—”

“Sorry we’re late.”

Youngho sinks into the seat right across Taeil, setting Mark down next to him. In a rare show of defiance to his warm personality, he doesn’t address them with friendly hugs or broad smiles. Instead, he only scooches his chair closer to the table and says curtly, “Have you guys ordered?”

“Uh, hello to you too?” Yuta retorts, eyebrow raised.

Unmoved, Youngho gives him a flat look. “Hi, Yuta.”

“We haven’t ordered yet but now that you and Mark are here, we can.” Taeyong is already overcompensating for Youngho’s ominously foul mood, his grin a bit too wide and taut around the edges. “What would everyone like to eat?”

Once they’ve put in their orders, chatter starts up round the table. Jaehyun entertains Yeri and Mark with the iPad, while Taeyong and Doyoung discuss the upcoming election. Yuta and Seulgi seem to be talking about sports; they try to include Youngho in the conversation but he is an unwilling participant, opting to stay glued to his phone instead.

Each time Taeil takes a peek at Youngho, the latter is staring back with cold, unreadable eyes. Taeil is unnerved by how completely out of character it is, wary of the potential cause behind it.

Soon, the dishes arrive at their table. As expected, Yeri turns up her nose at the bowl of vegetables placed in front of her.

“ _Dad_ , no veggies. It’s the weekend.”

“You wish,” Taeil scoffs, spooning some onto her plate. “You know you have to eat your veggies no matter what.”

Sensing that Yeri is planning to be difficult, Doyoung pipes up, “Vegetables are good for you, Yeri-ah. Even Mark is going to eat his veggies, am I right?” Mark nods eagerly, spearing a baby carrot with unnatural enthusiasm. “See?”

“But veggies are gross.” Glowering, Yeri crosses his arms over her chest. “I don’t want them.”

Irritation prickling underneath his skin, Taeil sighs. “Yeri—”

“I think if Yeri doesn’t want to eat her vegetables, you shouldn’t force her to.”

Taeil looks at Youngho in disbelief. The man has barely said a word all night and when he does, it’s to criticize his parenting skills?

“Vegetables are good for her and she knows it.”

“She may know it but it doesn’t seem like she wants it.”

“Well, I don’t think you should tell me how to parent my daughter,” Taeil refutes, though he keeps his tone light to avoid friction.

Youngho smirks at him, upper lip curled dangerously.

“ _Your_ daughter?”

The remark is blasé, unremarkable, but potent enough to make Taeil’s world come crashing down in ashes and tatters. The wall that he had constructed so painstakingly, brick by brick, has been blown to pieces, laying he and his daughter bare for Youngho to see. Now, they are only separated by the thin veneer of truth.

Youngho _knows_ , and instantly, Taeil grasps what he had meant to say.

Your _daughter? Or_ our _daughter?_

“Don’t,” pleads Taeil quietly, his voice trembling. “Not in front of them.”

“Oh, I’m sure they know. Haven’t they been lying to me the whole time too, just like you?”

Alarmed, Taeyong makes to get out of his seat. “Youngho—”

“I meant the kids. Not in front of the kids. Please.”

Youngho weighs this for a second, glancing at both Mark and Yeri in turn, before he abruptly stands up and walks out of the room. He doesn’t look back but his departure itself is a wordless invitation for Taeil to follow.

“Where did Daddy go?” Mark quips, a tiny furrow in his brow.

“Outside.” Taeil gives him a tremulous smile. “We’re going to talk for a bit. The rest of you eat, okay?” He turns to Yeri, trying not to crumble under her watchful gaze. “You too, Yeri-ah. Eat a broccoli or two for me?”

She doesn’t respond but sticks a broccoli into her mouth as she’s told.

“Taeil.” Taeyong grabs him by the elbow, looking pale and absolutely stricken. “I never told him anything. You have to know that. None of us did.”

Yuta and Jaehyun appear equally distressed, with Jaehyun even looking a bit green around the gills.

“I know.” Taeil shuts his eyes briefly. “Just keep an eye on the kids while I speak to him.”

“Do you—”

“Alone.”

Unconvinced, Taeyong’s features contort into an expression that could only mean he’s about to protest, but his stance loosens once his wife places a hand on the small of his back.

“This is their issue to work out, not yours,” coaxes Seulgi. “Let them talk.”

Acquiescing with a sigh, Taeyong lets him go. Taeil wishes he didn’t so there would be a reason to avoid the inevitable, but life has been kind to him for far too long and now it has come to collect. With every step taken toward the door, dread fills his lungs, making him feel like his head is being held underwater.

Youngho is standing under a streetlight, his broad back awash in streaks of gold. There’s a flicker in his right hand, a lit cigarette, which he takes an agitated puff from. He doesn’t react to the sound of footsteps behind him. Taeil waits for him to speak, every passing second excruciating.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Taeil swallows in a vain attempt to ease the bile scaling up his throat. “Of course.”

“When?” Youngho spins to face him fully. His eyes are red-rimmed, fraught with the deep ache of a man betrayed. “If she gets sick and needs a kidney or something?”

“ _No_ ,” Taeil objects, already feeling the sting of oncoming tears. “It’s not like that, I was always—”

“Ten years, Taeil. I spent _ten fucking years_ not knowing she existed, while she spent her whole life thinking I was ‘too busy’ to come back here and meet her.” Shaking his head, Youngho puts out his cigarette, grinding it into the ground with the toe of his shoe. “I’m a deadbeat dad and I didn’t even know it.”

“You’re not.” Despair claws at him, imploring him to make things right, because his heartbreak may be warranted but Youngho doesn’t deserve this pain. “I never blamed you, I nev—”

“I don’t know what I ever did to you in the past to make you hate me this much,” says Youngho, face twisted into a grimace, “but this is cruel, even for you.”

He has it all wrong. Heart pounding, Taeil scrambles for the right answer.

“I-I don’t hate you.” Taeil is stuttering now, tripping over his own words in his haste to give the true account of the situation. “I never hated you, not even- not even a little bit.”

“Then _why_?”

Taeil has never seen Youngho cry before but now he has front-row seats to the spectacle and not only that, the selfish ignorance of his youth is the source of it. He is suddenly desperate to turn back time, to the instant when he could have told Youngho _hey we’re having a baby so don’t go to America, okay?_ and Yeri would have grown up with both parents by her side.

He did this. This spectacular destruction is his to own and no one else’s.

“Tell me why,” Youngho repeats, tears mapping his cheeks in rivulets.

No more lies, no more excuses.

“You were going to America,” Taeil whimpers, wiping at his own eyes harshly. “If I’d told you about her, you would have stayed. I couldn’t do that to you, to your future.”

Youngho looks at him brokenly, all the fight seeping out of him. His lips are parted but he doesn’t say anything in return.

“You would have ended up resenting us. You had a plan, a dream, and Yeri would have gotten in the way of that.”

Jaw clenching, Youngho murmurs, “My dream could have been different, Taeil. But you took that choice away from me.”

It feels like a slap in the face, piercing Taeil where he is already rubbed raw.

“If you had stayed, you wouldn’t have Mark.”

The words come out against his will, an ugly attempt at self-defense. It’s a low blow and judging by Youngho’s sharp glare, he thinks so too.

“Mark notwithstanding,” he counters, “I deserved to know about my daughter.”

And that’s the bottom line, ultimately. Regardless of whether Youngho decided to stay or leave, he should have been given the opportunity to assess his options. Instead, Taeil had snatched it away without him knowing, burying it deep only for it to resurface at the most inopportune moment, the fallout beyond devastating.

“You did.” Their eyes meet, matching mirrors of agony. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause before Youngho caves into himself and starts sniveling like a child, overwhelmed. Taeil has never loathed himself as much as he does then and there.

“Youngho,” sobs Taeil. “ _Fuck_ , Youngho, I’m so sorry.”

Youngho stares at him. His pupils are pitch black, bereft of any feeling.

“Your apology can’t bring back all the years I’ve missed with her, Taeil.”

Briskly, Youngho brushes past him and strides into the restaurant. Less than a minute later, he emerges with Mark held securely in his arms. Taeil watches as he flags down a cab, gently nudging his son inside before getting into it himself without even so much as a glance over his shoulder.

The car speeds off with a rumble. Once the cloud of smoke dissipates, Taeil sees Yeri standing at the entrance of the restaurant, small and unsure.

His heart shatters all over again.

“I have something to tell you.”

It’s a solemn setting. The overhead lights are dimmed and the only noise in the kitchen is the hum of the refrigerator. His mother had prepared green tea, as is customary for her to do when there’s a serious discussion to be had. He sits on one side of the dining table, his parents on the other.

He feels a sense of déjà vu, pulled back to that fateful night when he, utterly inconsolable, had begged his parents to put him on the next flight to Chicago, vowing never to return.

The irony of it makes him nauseous.

“What is it, son?” Profound concern etches deeper lines into his father’s face.

Taking a deep breath, Youngho wraps his fingers around the steaming mug in front of him.

“I recently discovered that… I have a daughter.”

Youngho had predicted gasps of shock, maybe even a fainting spell from his overdramatic mother, but his disclosure is only met with calculated silence.

He exhales, realization creeping into his senses. They already know.

“Sweetheart,” his mother says softly, “we know about Yeri.”

“Of course you do.” Youngho finds that there is no wrath left in him. He is bone-tired by now. “Everyone seems to know but me.”

His mother leans forward to touch his hand but he pettily moves it just out of her reach.

“You must understand that it wasn’t our place to tell you.” Her eyes are twinkling yet they are edged with sadness. “Your father and I – and your friends – were put into this predicament against our wishes, but we couldn’t betray Taeil’s trust.”

“What about _my_ trust?” Youngho demands, fresh hurt blooming in his chest.

“We—”

“You lied to me. I’m your _son_ and there you were, in cahoots with this man who deliberately kept my child away from me for years.”

Before the conversation could spiral out of control, his father puts one hand up.

“Youngho-ah,” he begins, his voice moderate and gentle, “I’m not saying Taeil made the right call by excluding you from the picture. It was incredibly unfair to both you and Yeri. This is a fact that he knows of all too well, believe me.” He pauses, giving Youngho a long, probing look. “But what would you have done if you were in his shoes?”

“I would have told him as soon as I found out I was pregnant,” Youngho replies, hell bent on being obstinate.

His father laughs, unruffled by his temper.

“Let me flesh it out a little for you, son. What would you have done if you, just eighteen years old, discover that you were expecting the child of the most popular guy in school? Basketball team captain, perfect grades, just one referral letter away from the _American_ university of his choice.”

Aware that he’s grasped Youngho’s full attention, he continues, “Not just that – this guy happens to be your dear friend, whom you care enough about to sacrifice your own future in favor of securing his.”

Locking eyes with him, his father again asks: “What would you have done?”

“I…”

_I would have done the same thing._

“That’s what I thought.”

There’s a palpable tension in the air still, but it is milder compared to before. His mother takes advantage of this to provide an explanation.

“We didn’t find out until much later,” she tells him. “Only Taeyong knew from the beginning, I think.”

“How did you find out?” questions Youngho. There are so many emotions swelling within him, fighting for dominance, but he focuses on getting the answers he needs.

“Taeil’s mothers moved back to Suwon with his sister some years back. They wanted him to come with them so Yeri could be raised around family, but he insisted that he and Yeri would be fine here, just the two of them.” His mother smiles wanly. “But as strong-willed as he is, it wasn’t easy to juggle college, two part-time jobs and a young child.”

Remorse that he wasn’t there to ease Taeil’s burden washes over Youngho but it smoothly gives way to a muted anger, since Taeil prevented him from being there in the first place. 

“And then what happened?”

“Yeri fell sick one weekend. It was only a common cold but both Taeyong and Jaehyun were out of town. Taeil had just been fired from one of his two jobs and he had a paper due.” His father stops to take a sip of tea. “He showed up here in the middle of a thunderstorm, completely drenched and in hysterics. And the rest, I suppose, is history.”

Youngho finds it hard to swallow past the lump that has lodged itself in his throat.

Tentatively, his mother stretches her hand out across the table. This time, he meets her halfway.

“We tried to persuade him to tell you the moment we found out,” she says, teary-eyed, “but we feared that pressuring him too much would put an even greater distance between us and the granddaughter we were so eager to know.” She bites her lip. “It was the only way your father and I survived all these years without you – because we had a piece of you right here.”

A volley of sentiments hit him at his core and Youngho weeps; for the life he could have had, for the daughter he could have raised, for the man he could have loved.

“Oh, honey,” his mother murmurs, leaping out of her chair and pulling him into her arms. “I know. I know this has to hurt.”

She holds him like he’s four years old again, fresh off a tantrum at the convenience store and shamefacedly craving her tender touch, her restful scent. 

“Daddy?”

Mark stands sleepily in the entryway to the kitchen, holding his tatty stuffed lion by its ear. “Why are you crying? Why is Grandma crying?”

“Hey,” Youngho greets his son with false cheer, drying his face quickly with the hem of his T-shirt. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be up.”

Ignoring the statement, Mark pads into the kitchen with his arms raised. Youngho lifts him up onto his lap.

“Why are you sad?” whispers Mark, tiny palms pressed against Youngho’s face.

“It’s a long story.”

“Daddy.”

“Yes?”

“Are you sad because of Yeri-noona?”

Youngho doesn’t know just how much he should divulge, uncertain as to his son’s capacity to fully comprehend the specifics but at the same time, he is exhausted by the thought of more lies.

He looks to his parents for support. They both nod, silently urging him to continue before leaving him and Mark in the kitchen.

“Baby,” he says, running a hand through Mark’s hair. “You know how once upon a time, Mommy and I met and fell in love, and then we had you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Many years before _that_ , Uncle Taeil and I met and… fell in love too, and we had Yeri. But I- I didn’t know about her. I went to Chicago before she was born.”

“Oh.” Mark tilts his head to the side, mulling over the news. “So what does that mean?” 

“It means Yeri is your sister. Your half-sister. She is my daughter and you are my son. I am both your daddy and hers too.” Articulating it makes it so glaringly real. He has a _daughter_.

He has a daughter with _Taeil_.

“But Mommy isn’t her mommy?”

“No.” Youngho chuckles despite himself. “Her other daddy is Uncle Taeil, remember? She doesn’t have a mommy.”

Deep in thought, Mark gazes at him. “Then why are you sad, Daddy? You always said you wish there were more of me because I’m the best,” he exclaims, proud, “and now you have one more.”

His chest tightens at the childlike innocence of his little boy, always eager to see the good in everything.

“I’m sad because I didn’t know about Yeri, so I didn’t get to do special things with her like I did with you. Swimming, riding a bike, making cheeseburgers together – I missed all that. That’s why I’m sad.”

“But there’s one special thing you can do with her now.” Mark breaks off into a yawn and snuggles closer, resting his downy cheek right over Youngho’s heart.

“And what’s that, buddy?”

“Uncle Taeil – when he’s being Teacher Moon – always tells us that it’s better late than never,” says Mark, forehead creasing adorably as he tries to remember Taeil’s advice word for word. “So that’s what you can do now, Daddy. You can give Yeri-noona lots of love now, even if you didn’t get to do it before.”

Yeri had been quiet throughout dinner.

Granted, nobody was actually in a jovial mood after what had transpired and it was difficult to ignore the elephant in the room, but Yeri has a penchant for isolating herself in her own little bubble when faced with awkward situations, remaining unaffected.

Tonight, though, it appears she has lost that ability.

“We’re here,” Jaehyun mutters, stopping his car right outside the apartment complex. “We’ll see you really soon, okay, Yeri?”

She doesn’t grace him with much of a response save for a mumbled _goodnight_ and hops out of the car, stomping toward the elevator.

From the passenger seat, Doyoung turns toward the back as much as he can manage to. “Taeil, are you sure you and Yeri are going to be okay? It doesn’t feel right to just leave the two of you like this.” 

“Yeah,” Jaehyun is quick to agree. “If you need us to stay over or get you anything at all—”

“It’s fine.” Taeil gives them both his best attempt at a smile. “I need to have a long talk with her and I think it’s best for me to do it in private.”

“Of course. Let us know if you need anything?”

“I will.”

He gets out of the car and waves the couple off, waiting until yellow taillights disappear before retreating into the building. The entire trip to their apartment is somber, not a single word spoken between him and his daughter.

Taeil closes the front door, sliding the bolt into place, and all hell breaks loose.

“What was that about?”

Heaving a sigh, Taeil replies, “What do you mean?” His playing dumb is likely to exacerbate her but he is desperate to buy himself some time.

“Your fight with Uncle Youngho, Dad. What was it about?”

“Yeri—”

“Is it true? That he’s my dad?”

Yeri puts her hands on her hips, trying to come off as intimidating, but there’s the slightest quiver to her chin that belies her tough persona. For all that she is loud and brash, she is only nine years old. Still sleeps with a nightlight, still watches Pororo on occasion, still scared of big dogs.

She is his baby, his one and only, and Taeil figures he has already caused her enough pain to last her a lifetime.

“It’s true. Youngho is your father.”

Eyes watering, Yeri demands, “Why?”

“What do you mean _why_?”

Her face crumples. “Wh-why didn’t he want me?”

Despite the many dark nights and gloomy days he had endured since Youngho left, Taeil doesn’t think he has ever felt this degree of anguish, so cavernous it strikes him where nothing is left to even strike.

“Listen to me,” Taeil hurries to say, falling to his knees so he is eye level with his daughter. “It’s not that he didn’t want you. It’s not like that, Yeri-ah, I _swear_. He just… didn’t know about you.”

“How can he not know?”

This is by far the heaviest conversation Taeil will ever have in his life, even surpassing his strained dialogue with Youngho earlier. “Let’s sit down first. This is going to be a long one.”

They settle on the couch across each other, sporting identical cross-legged poses.

“First of all, what are you thinking? That Youngho has always known you were his daughter but pretended not to this entire time he’s been back?” asks Taeil, having an inkling as to the thoughts running rampant in his young daughter’s mind.

Yeri nods hesitantly, chewing on her bottom lip.

“He didn’t. I’m not sure how he found out but he only found out recently.”

“Why didn’t he know?”

Taeil frowns, unsure how to broach the topic with the right balance of candor and sensitivity.

“Honey, you know that when you love someone, you would do anything for them, right?” he begins.

“Yeah.”

“I loved Youngho very much. I cared for him, and I wanted him to be happy. He was going to America to study; it was always his dream.” Shakily, Taeil takes Yeri’s hands in his. They’re cold to the touch. “I let him go to America. I didn’t tell him about you because if he had known, he wouldn’t have gone. He would have let his dream go.”

“But that’s not fair!” protests Yeri, pulling away. “He had his dream, and _Mark_ got to have him, but I- I had to live with only one dad.”

It is his one true fear come to light – that Yeri would realize she had been deprived of something better.

“I didn’t give him a choice and that’s my fault,” Taeil admits. “At the time, I thought my decision was the best for everyone; Youngho would get to live his dream life and I would do my best to give _you_ the best life.” Exhaling, he shakes his head. “But I’ve failed both of you, it seems.”

Yeri edges closer to him. “I’ve had a good life with you, Dad,” she says quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

It’s bittersweet, and Taeil knows he is completely undeserving, but he clutches her a little tighter.

“I’m sorry, Yeri. I’m sorry I didn’t tell Youngho about you and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the full truth about him until now.”

He had been foolish to think that introducing Yeri to Youngho’s parents would soothe the longing, when he prohibited them from showing her pictures of Youngho or even telling her his name. Every reference made is general, every visit conditional, and all it did was render more of her questions unanswered.

“Do you think…” Yeri trails off, uneasy.

“What is it?”

“Do you think he would want to get to know me? I mean, he has Mark and I- I don’t know.”

Taeil folds her into his arms again, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I think we’ll have to give him some time because he’s still mad at me,” he concedes, “but if there’s anything I know about Youngho, it’s that he has a big heart of gold, just like you. There’ll be more than enough space for you and Mark, both.”

It’s a bold statement to make, considering Youngho has made no mention of building a relationship with his daughter, but Taeil knows that if Youngho is even half the person he once was, he won’t want to spend a single second away from Yeri once the tide of anger recedes.

“You think he’ll like me?” Yeri questions, lips curling into a pout.

“Oh, honey,” Taeil breathes, tucking a lock of her fine dark hair behind one ear. “I think he’ll be crazy not to absolutely _love_ you.”

She beams at him, the dried tearstains on her cheeks almost comical, but his heart swells at just how beautiful she is. He _made_ this smart, feisty little girl with her sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, who can be surprisingly intuitive at times and sweet with her gestures.

All of his and Youngho’s best qualities, rolled into one person.

Youngho supposes that what he’s doing is an ambush but he’s of the opinion that Taeil could stand to lose a little bit of privacy, given the circumstances. He manages to guilt-trip Jaehyun – arguably the weakest link in their group – into giving him Taeil’s address and now he’s standing right outside the door, finger poised over the doorbell but reluctant to actually press it.

The door unexpectedly opens, startling him, and he finds himself looking down at Taeil.

“You—”

“I can see you from the CCTV.”

“Right.”

“Would you like to come in?” asks Taeil, gesticulating vaguely to the area behind him.

“Yes. Thanks.”

As he enters, Youngho takes in the apartment. It’s on the smaller side but cozy nonetheless, decorated in warm earth tones. There are numerous indications that the space is inhabited by a child; various objects litter the seats and even the floor, ranging from hair ribbons to plushies.

And of course, there are framed pictures on the wall. All of them seem to be of Yeri, from when she was a newborn up until more recent times. Taeil appears in a handful of them.

“I’m sorry it’s so messy. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve tidied up a bit.”

Youngho doesn’t reply, transfixed by the photographic evidence of the life Taeil and Yeri had without him.

“Can you just take a seat for a while? I’m going to get something. To show you.”

Drawn out of his daze, Youngho nods quickly. “Sure.” He watches as Taeil disappears behind a closed door that presumably leads to his bedroom. It’s a two-bedroom apartment and the other door is shut as well. He wonders whether Yeri is asleep or if she’s even home to begin with.

Youngho gingerly pulls out a chair and seats himself at the dining table.

After a couple of minutes, Taeil reemerges from his room. He’s carrying a cardboard box in his hands and there’s a large book tucked under his arm. He sits across Youngho.

“Here.”

Taeil slides the book toward him. Upon closer inspection, it’s not a book after all.

It’s a photo album.

“I’ve never been great at taking pictures or preserving memories, all that stuff,” mutters Taeil, flushed. “But I put together this album and this box over the years. In case I ever get to show it to you.”

Now that the answers he’s been seeking are being handed to him on a silver platter, Youngho feels anxious. Staving off the urge to bolt, he grabs the album and starts to flip through it.

The first few pictures are of a visibly pregnant Taeil. He looks irritated in most of them, especially in one where he’s surrounded by their friends and a copious amount of pink balloons. A baby shower, probably. Youngho finds it hard to move past that page, especially when the one right next to it shows Taeil in a hospital bed, looking drained but so content, a wrinkled newborn on his chest.

Yeri grows up gradually throughout the album. She has smushed peas all over her face in one picture, gets a piggyback ride from Yuta in another. She’s wailing at a petting zoo in one, blows out the candles on her birthday cake with Taeil’s help in the next. 

Then there’s one of her and his parents at a flower garden. Yeri sits in the middle, grinning toothily, and his parents both have their arms around her.

Youngho doesn’t even notice that he’s crying until droplets hit the filmy pages.

Refusing to look at Taeil, he sets the album aside and reaches for the box. He takes off the lid and peers inside. The sight he’s met with nearly makes him keel over with irrepressible emotions.

Every item in the box is meticulously labeled in Taeil’s neat handwriting. _Yeri’s first haircut. Candles from Yeri’s fourth birthday cake. Yeri’s first baby tooth to fall out! Yeri’s prize-winning drawing at school, second grade._

“She was so small,” Youngho whispers, reverently touching the hospital band that must have once been wrapped around Yeri’s ankle when she was just born.

“She was.” Taeil is in tears too.

They must look ridiculous; two grown men sitting at a table, sobbing over too-small shoes and locks of baby hair.

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve come back after I graduated.”

“Your parents wanted me to. And I was going to,” says Taeil hoarsely, eyes overflowing, “but that was about five years ago. Before I could, your parents told me…”

“…that my girlfriend was pregnant.”

Taeil covers his face with his palms, shoulders quaking with the force of his sobs. “I couldn’t ruin the family you’ve built for yourself. I just thought Yeri and I will be fine, like we’ve always been, but then you came back with _Mark_ and he’s the sweetest thing and it all got so messy—”

“Taeil.”

They look at each other. Taeil is still sniffling, eyes already swollen, but the view tugs at Youngho’s heartstrings regardless, tapping out a tune that’s been long forgotten.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“When?”

“At the bleachers. Before I left.”

“No,” confesses Taeil, evading his stare. “I just wanted you to hate me enough so that you’d leave.”

Youngho feels the tiniest pinprick of something that he refuses to name, lest he calls it _hope_.

“I’m still furious at you and I don’t think I can forgive you anytime soon,” he says, “but I also want to thank you.”

Surprised, Taeil lifts his head up. “For what?”

“For taking good care of our daughter all these years.” Youngho gives him a poignant half-smile. “My parents told me about the hard time you had bringing her up. She’s happy, though, and healthy, so you must’ve done a great job in spite of the difficulties.”

Taeil doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds.

“She may look like me but she reminds me so much of you,” he remarks eventually. “I couldn’t have forgotten you even if I tried.”

“Good.”

Taeil rolls his eyes at the flippantly snide comment. The exchange feels familiar, like they’re teenagers again and he is reprimanding Youngho for being cocky in front of the juniors.

“I never told her your name or showed her your pictures because I wanted to protect your privacy, in case you ever decide you didn’t want her.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“In case.” Taeil suddenly giggles, though it sounds melancholic. “But Yeri is annoyingly curious, so I had to tell her things about you instead. Your favorite food, your favorite movie. She knows nothing about basketball but still insists on watching NBA games. It’s hilarious.”

Wiping his eyes, Youngho chuckles. “She’s got taste.”

“Questionable taste.”

Once the laughter dies down, Taeil gazes at him, serious and forlorn. “Youngho, I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Youngho says softly.

The door that doesn’t lead to Taeil’s bedroom yawns open and Yeri steps out of it, still dressed in her nightgown. She stops in her tracks when she spots Youngho.

“Morning, sweetie,” Taeil says to her, beckoning her forward. “Come here. Your dad is here to see you.”

 _Your dad_.

Youngho doesn’t think he has any tears left in him but if Taeil keeps this up, he _will_ somehow cry again.

“Oh.” Yeri blinks a couple of times, faltering. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Youngho does his best to grin at her but he doesn’t know how believable it is. Judging by the apprehensive expression she has on, it’s not.

He’s at a loss now, not knowing what to do to make the awkward silence go away, but Taeil shoots him a look, tilting his head in Yeri’s direction just barely. _Do something_ , he mouths.

“Yeri, would you mind if I- if I gave you a hug?”

She contemplates this for a moment before shrugging. “I guess not.”

Youngho waits for Yeri to approach him before getting out of his seat, tentatively spreading his arms. She walks into his embrace, arms circling his neck.

It takes a while for Youngho to notice that she’s crying.

“Hey.” He returns to his chair, carrying her with him. “You’re okay, Yeri. Everything will be okay now.”

As he keeps his daughter close, comforting her with gentle pats on the back, Youngho feels the same way he did when he first held Mark – like his arms were only ever created to hold the warm, solid weight of his children, keeping them safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty much only a filler chapter but it's also necessary, so we can get back to the plot in the next chapter (lmao is there even a plot?? idk anymore)


	5. your shadow follows me all day

Koeun is absolutely gorgeous. Granted, with Jaehyun and Doyoung as parents, there was zero chance of her turning out otherwise, but she truly is the prettiest little thing. Smooth skin, dimpled cheeks, perfectly shaped fingernails – it’s like looking at a porcelain doll.

“She’s the most beautiful newborn I have ever seen,” Taeil says out loud, leaning over the plastic cot to peer at the sleeping infant.

Yeri, who had been playing a game on Jaehyun’s phone, arches an eyebrow at the remark.

“Was I not a cute newborn?” she demands to know.

To evade any potential conflict, Jaehyun quickly interjects, “Oh, you were the _cutes_ —”

“As a newborn, not really because you looked like a tiny boiled potato,” admits Taeil, “but you’re cute _now_ , sweetie, and that’s what matters.”

Shrugging, Yeri returns to her game.

“If I weren’t cute, then you’re not cute either, Dad. People always say I look just like you.”

All Taeil could do is let out a long-suffering sigh. He turns to Jaehyun and Doyoung, who are both laughing at his misfortune. “You just wait until this one grows up,” he warns them lightly. “First she’ll learn to talk, then she learns to talk _back_ , and it never stops after that.”

“We’ve only had her for all of ten hours. I don’t want to talk about her growing up just yet.”

Jaehyun approaches the cot and lifts Koeun out of it with the exaggerated caution of a first-time parent. He has a five o’clock shadow and the bags under his eyes are sagging, but Taeil has never seen him so happy. It’s a feeling he’s all too familiar with.

“Is it normal for Jaehyun to be so obsessed with our daughter?” Doyoung jokes. Even so, his gaze is fond as he takes in the view of his fiancé gently rocking their daughter by the window.

“It is.”

They hear a loud knock, before the door opens slightly and Youngho pokes his head into the room. “Hey,” he says. “We heard there’s a new baby in here?”

“Youngho.” Jaehyun seems surprised, which Taeil doesn’t blame him for. To his knowledge, Youngho hasn’t properly spoken to any of their friends since the disastrous dinner almost a month ago. 

Mark enters first, brandishing a big wrapped box. Youngho follows suit and closes the door behind him. He’s still dressed for work, crisp white button-up rolled up to his elbows. He nods at Taeil when their eyes meet. Taeil gives him a small smile in return, watching as he gives Yeri a big hug.

The past month has been… interesting. There’s no solid arrangement yet so Taeil isn’t sure if they’re co-parenting or just throwing Yeri back and forth like a beach ball. Youngho comes over sometimes; when he can’t, Taeil drops Yeri off at his parents’ place. They should come up with a plan but since Youngho is still largely displeased with him, Taeil decides to give it a rest for now.

Setting a bouquet of pink and yellow roses on the table next to Doyoung, Youngho reaches over and squeezes him on the shoulder.

“Congratulations, Doyoung,” he says warmly.

“Thank you.”

Youngho then shuffles closer to Jaehyun, arms held apart. “Congratulations, Jae.”

“Youngho,” murmurs Jaehyun, overcome with emotion. He gives Youngho only a half-hug in return, since his hands are occupied by his daughter. “Dude, I’m so sor—”

“Hush. We’re here to celebrate your daughter. There’s lots of time to talk later.”

This invokes a relieved nod from Jaehyun, who turns his attention to Mark. “Hey, Markie,” he coos. “Did you bring Koeun a present?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, blushing. “Yeri-noona and I picked it together. It’s from both of us, and Daddy.”

 _Both of us, and Daddy_. Their own exclusive party of three. Taeil feels like he could melt; whether from the sheer adorableness of it or the longing that drills into his chest, he doesn’t know.

“I’m sure she’ll love it. Let’s open it together and show her.”

Jaehyun passes the baby to Doyoung so he could help the kids with the present. With everyone else in the room distracted, Taeil looks around for something to do so he and Youngho won’t have to stew in awkwardness yet again but before he could, Youngho is moving toward him.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Taeil mentally curses at how squeaky his voice sounds. “Just got back from work?”

“Yeah,” says Youngho, running a hand through his hair. “I’m actually really tired but Mark insisted that he couldn’t wait until the weekend to see the baby, so here we are.”

“Right.”

The conversation dies off, neither of them knowing how to continue it.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you something. Does Yeri like animals?”

Taeil blinks. That’s not what he had expected Youngho to say but it seems to be a safer topic than most. He elects to take the bait.

“She does, for the most part,” he answers. “Not the creepy-crawlies, though.”

Humming in thought, Youngho shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“One of my colleagues has extra tickets to the zoo, so she offered them to me. I figured the kids would enjoy it.”

“For sure,” Taeil assures him generously. “I think the three of you would have a great time.”

Youngho gives him a mildly amused look.

“You mean the _four_ of us.”

“Who are you bringing along? Your mom?”

Youngho huffs frustratedly, though it sounds more like a chuckle. “You, Taeil,” he says. “I’m asking you to come with us.”

“Oh.”

Before Taeil could overthink it, Youngho continues speaking. “Mark was asking me why you don’t tag along whenever you drop Yeri off with us. He thought the four of us should do something together.”

Taeil can’t decide whether to feel disappointed or endeared by the fact that it’s Mark’s suggestion and not Youngho’s. Then again, this is as much of an olive branch as he’s going to get for now, so he deems it wise to accept the invitation.

“I’d be glad to join you guys,” says Taeil. “Thanks for the invite.”

“No problem. We’ll set a date later?”

_Date._

“Sure.”

“Daddy!” Mark runs up to them and tugs on Youngho’s pants insistently. “The baby’s awake. Come see her.”

“You haven’t held her yet,” Doyoung points out, proffering the wriggling bundle of blankets in his arms to Youngho. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Wincing, Youngho holds up a hand to refuse. “It’s been so long since I last held a newborn,” he hedges. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“Nonsense. Taeil can help you; he’s great with babies.”

Most times, Taeil is grateful for his friends but sometimes, they’re too meddlesome for their own good. He shoots a dirty look at Doyoung, who only stares back at him guilelessly.

Against his will, Youngho takes a seat on the couch, flanked by Mark and Yeri, who has abandoned her game by now and is eagerly anticipating a chance to hold the baby.

Taeil carefully takes Koeun from Doyoung and walks the short distance to the couch. He clucks his tongue at Jaehyun, who’s watching the entire exchange like a hawk. “Give me some credit, man,” he sighs.

“Be careful.”

Taeil bites back the sharp retort sitting on his tongue – he has been a dad for the past nine years, after all – and instead says, “I will.” He bends down to transfer the baby to Youngho’s arms and tries not to laugh at the unadulterated panic in his expression.

“She’s just a baby,” Taeil reminds him. “Not a time bomb.”

“She might as well be.”

With a bit of effort, Koeun is successfully handed over to Youngho, who cradles her close. Being held by Youngho makes her look about three times smaller than she is.

“Hi, Koeun-ah,” he whispers, touching her curled fist. “It’s me, Uncle Youngho.” Jaehyun quickly grabs his phone and starts taking pictures of the scene.

Taeil doesn’t allow himself the indulgence of taking a picture, of course, but he tries to commit the sight to memory, even if he’s confident he could never forget it – Youngho holding a baby, Mark hanging off his arm and Yeri peeking over his shoulder.

He briefly entertains the thought that in an alternate universe, a different lifetime where every choice he makes at every juncture is the right one, he gets to wake up to this every morning.

“Look at the tiger, Dad!”

“I know,” Taeil says.

“Daddy – the giraffe!”

“I see it,” Youngho says.

They glance at each other in amusement. Taeil looks away first to fuss over Yeri’s hat, which is already perfectly perched atop her head as it is.

An hour into their outing, Youngho can count on one hand the words Taeil has spoken to him. He knows the tension is not unwarranted; Taeil is mindful of the weight of his actions, aware that there is still residual anger on Youngho’s part, perhaps even a touch of resentment.

At present, though, Youngho doesn’t feel much of it at all.

“Don’t you miss having that much energy?” Youngho wonders aloud, observing as Mark and Yeri traipse from one enclosure to another. The sun is high up in the sky and he can feel the fabric of his T-shirt clinging to his skin, but the kids haven’t complained once.

“I can’t even remember the last time I wasn’t tired, to be honest.”

“Same here.”

They continue to walk in silence, a sizeable gap between them.

Taeil clears his throat. “Thank you, by the way. For bringing Yeri here.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” says Youngho. “I mean, I’m sure this place is nothing new to her but it’s nice to see that she’s still excited.”

“It’s only her second time here, actually. I don’t think she can recall the first time; she was only two or so.”

Youngho must have seemed a bit mystified, since Taeil is quick to offer an explanation.

“Teenage single dad, two jobs, attending college later than my peers. I didn’t really have much money or time to bring her anywhere.” Grinning wistfully at him, Taeil remarks, “I’m glad she has you around now, to let her experience all the nice things.”

Although the aftermath of Taeil’s deception has left a blackened bruise that’s still smarting, the self-pity grates at Youngho.

“Yeri would’ve gone on to have a good life even if I weren’t around,” he points out. “She’s a great kid, which could only mean you’re a great dad.”

“Youngho—”

“Taeil.” Youngho stops him, makes sure they’re facing each other. Uncertainty flickers in Taeil’s eyes like a broken lightbulb. “I’ve known Yeri for all of a month and I already can’t remember what life was like before her. _You_ did that. It’s all you.”

“It should’ve been you too,” murmurs Taeil, chin wobbling just the slightest bit.

“But it wasn’t.” Realizing the unintended harshness of his words, Youngho remedies it by saying, “From now on, though, it can be. We’ll both do our best for her.” It’s too kind of him, given the circumstances, but he has never been able to leave Taeil upset for long. Old habits die hard.

Taeil nods, taking a deep breath to steady his emotions.

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other for life now, you and I.”

Youngho can’t tell which one is worse: his reality, where he will always have Taeil by his side but only at arm’s length, or his imagination, where he and Taeil get to share a life together but it’s just a cruel mirage.

“Looks like it,” he replies. Their eyes lock and Youngho finds himself incapable of averting his gaze.

The strange intimacy is scattered when Yeri stomps up to them, her face flushed. “Dads,” she proclaims, “I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” Mark pipes up, although Taeil had given him a pack of cookies barely thirty minutes before.

Ever since it’s been made known to him that Yeri is his sister, Mark has been following her around like a loyal puppy, hanging onto her every word and parroting her. Youngho would find it maddening if it weren’t so cute, especially when it’s obvious that Yeri adores Mark just as much.

He has two kids, and his two kids love each other to bits. Youngho doesn’t think he can ask for anything more, save for the fact that he harbors long-buried feelings for the father of Kid #1 and the mother of Kid #2 is MIA. There’s that, he supposes.

“I think it’s a good idea to have lunch now,” says Taeil, glancing at his watch. “We’d be able to avoid the crowd.”

“Great! There’s a fast food restaurant right up front.”

Unimpressed, Taeil glares at his daughter. “Fast food?”

Knowing that she won’t be getting her way so easily, Yeri turns to Youngho with her eyelashes fluttering. “Daddy,” she wheedles. “I think it’s be _really_ nice to have a cheeseburger. Don’t you think so, Mark?”

“Uh-huh,” agrees Mark, eyes wide.

Youngho has always been powerless against Mark to begin with, and now it’s a double whammy against him. It’s a lost cause.

He faces Taeil, who’s already sporting a knowing expression. “Surely one cheeseburger can’t hurt?” he asks, sheepish.

Before Taeil could gripe about it, Mark juts out his bottom lip. “Please, Uncle Taeil?”

“I guess,” Taeil relents with an arduous sigh. “Just this once.”

Lunch is smooth-sailing, of course, since Yeri and Mark got what they wanted. They dig into their burgers with fervor, Yeri smirking haughtily at Taeil as she does so.

“You know,” mutters Taeil while the kids are babbling to each other about the seal show they saw earlier, “it would be helpful if both parents are on the same page about certain things.”

“I’m all for healthy eating but I also support indulging every now and then. I guess it’s just Fun Dad things,” Youngho teases. He feels something warm coil in his gut when Taeil snorts, playfully scowling at him.

Affronted, Yeri points a fry at Youngho. “Hey, Dad is plenty fun! He uses funny voices when we sing to Disney movies together.”

“I don’t think your father needs to hear about that,” Taeil interrupts quickly, cheeks turning pink.

“Actually, that sounds pretty interesting. Care to show us how it’s done, Taeil?”

“Shut up, Youngho.” There’s no heat to his words whatsoever and it’s apparent that Taeil is fighting back a smile.

Before Youngho could press a little more, Mark announces, “I need to pee.”

“Buddy, I brought you to the bathroom ten minutes ago.”

“I need to go _again_.”

“Same,” says Yeri.

Youngho opens his mouth to voice out his exasperation yet again, but Taeil beats him to it. “I’ll take them. Let’s clean up a little and go.”

Taeil wipes the kids’ sticky faces and hands with fast, experienced hands, his brows binding together in concentration. For all that he is diffident about his role as a father, Taeil looks good like this. Youngho thinks he looks _right_ like this.

“Be back in ten minutes.” Taeil drags Mark and Yeri away, leaving Youngho to his own devices.

Pulling out his phone, Youngho is just about to scroll through his messages when he could feel eyes on him. He looks to his left, where the elderly couple at the next table is blatantly ogling him. They look to be in their sixties; one is tall and lean, the other one petite.

“We’re sorry for staring,” one of them tells him, embarrassed at being caught. “It’s just that you remind us of our family back when our children were young. They have around a similar age gap as yours and our daughter is the older one too.”

“I see.” Smiling, Youngho says, “That’s sweet. Are they still close?”

“Couldn’t be closer.” The man chuckles. “Our daughter is here in Seoul and our son lives in Busan but they talk to each other every day.”

“I hope my kids could be that way too in the future.”

The shorter one, whom Youngho presumes is the man’s husband, chimes in. “If your kids keep up the way they are now, there’s no doubt they’ll stay that way forever. Also, it’s uncanny how your daughter looks just like your husband and your son looks so much like you. You have a beautiful family.”

Youngho is about to clarify that Taeil isn’t his husband but he figures it’s too much hassle. Besides, it’s highly likely he won’t ever meet these men again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I guess I’m a very lucky man.”

“So,” Joohyun begins, with a telling lilt to her voice that could only mean she’s about to say something scandalous. “What’s the deal with you and the baby daddy?”

“Don’t call him that. It’s crude.”

“Well, what else is he, then? He’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my… friend. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Yoona repeats flatly. “ _Sure_.”

Ignoring their skepticism, Taeil tucks into his lunch. “We’ve been friends since high school and now that he’s back in the picture, we’re focusing on Yeri. That’s it.”

He’s conscientiously kept Youngho’s identity a secret from his gossipy colleagues, knowing they would blow it out of proportion if they were to find out. Only Jungwoo is privy to it, and even that is because Mark had accidentally blurted it out while giving Jungwoo an account of their trip to the zoo.

“You guys aren’t dating?” asks Joohyun, lips pursed.

“No. And I don’t think we ever will, for that matter.”

Jungwoo gives him a sidelong glance that he pays no attention to. His assistant is convinced that there’s ‘intense sexual tension’ between him and Youngho, which he had vehemently denied. Since then, Jungwoo has ceased to poke fun at him but still makes it a point to waggle his eyebrows lewdly at Taeil every time he and Youngho are in the same room together.

Taeil wonders if he has the authority to fire Jungwoo. He’ll have to ask the principal about it.

“This means you’re still available to date Sicheng if you wish to.”

 _Of course_.

“I really don’t get why you’re pushing this Sicheng agenda so much,” Taeil complains. “We’ve barely spoken three complete sentences to each other since he’s been here.”

Joohyun flips her glossy hair over her shoulder, no doubt about to come up with a theory that makes sense only to her, but they’re interrupted by the principal.

“Taeil-ssi, would you mind stepping out for a bit? I need to discuss something with you,” Principal Kim says politely, hands behind his back.

“Of course, Principal Kim.” Swallowing the last of his food, Taeil gets up and follows his boss.

He finds Sicheng standing right outside the door, looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else.

“Sicheng-ssi,” Taeil mutters, clumsily bowing at him.

“Taeil-ssi.”

Principal Kim claps his hands together. “Right. So, I wanted to talk to both of you about the upcoming Korea-China Cultural Day,” he declares. “As you’re aware, every semester, we’ll hold a special event to celebrate other cultures outside Korea. This semester, we’re looking at China since there’s been an influx of Chinese students here over the past year.”

Both Taeil and Sicheng nod mutely.

“I think it’d be a good idea if you two were to helm this project together. Sicheng, I chose you for obvious reasons, of course, and Taeil, I chose you based on Joohyun’s recommendation. I initially wanted her to do it, but she persuaded me that you’d be a better fit for this.”

The woman is really out to get him. Taeil is sure that she’s pure evil at this point.

“What do you think?” Principal Kim beams at them.

“I’ll do my best,” Sicheng says quietly. Taeil concurs, mumbling something along the same lines.

“Terrific! I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Once Principal Kim vanishes from their line of sight, Sicheng heaves a dramatic sigh, hunching forward.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck on this project with me,” he murmurs. “I was fine with doing it by myself but you know Principal Kim – teamwork and all that.”

His Korean is stiff, still heavily accented, but Taeil is pleasantly surprised to discover that he’s much more fluent now than he was before.

“I don’t mind,” Taeil assures him because ultimately, he really doesn’t. Work is work. “I haven’t gotten many opportunities to work on stuff like this, so it’d be a good experience for me too.”

“Well, I’m glad I get to do it with you, at least. Joohyun-ssi is kind of scary.” Taeil can’t help but giggle at the remark, which Sicheng pairs with a rueful grin.

“She’s not that bad, I promise. Once she’s comfortable with you, she’ll bore you with pictures and stories about her daughter, and you’ll wish you never wanted to befriend her in the first place.”

Sicheng cocks his head to the side, pondering. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Your daughter.”

A little stunned, Taeil lets out a nervous chuckle. “Well, she’s big enough that I don’t talk about her as much. I’ll try not to bore you too, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Sicheng exclaims. “I wouldn’t mind hearing about your daughter. She seems sweet; I’ve seen her around sometimes.”

“Yeah, she pretty much comes and goes as she pleases around here.”

“And that’s fine.” Sicheng looks torn, like he wants to say something he doesn’t think he should, but he goes for it. “I think you’re brave, Taeil-ssi. Raising her by yourself.”

 _Brave_. Taeil doesn’t hear that one very often.

“Well, her other father is around too, so technically, I’m not raising her by myself.”

“Are you and the other father…?”

“Oh, no. We’re not together.”

Is it a trick of the light or does Sicheng look relieved? At any rate, Taeil finds it difficult to focus; up close, he can understand just why the others moon over how good-looking Sicheng is. He really is handsome, all sharp angles offset by a charming smile.

“Well, I have to get ready for my next class, but I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on, Taeil-ssi.”

“I guess so,” replies Taeil, feeling oddly bashful.

Taeil waits until Sicheng leaves before reentering the room, met by the curious stares of Jungwoo and Yoona, and a smug Joohyun.

“ _You_ ,” Taeil points a finger at her, “are despicable.”

All Joohyun does is laugh airily.

“You’re welcome – and don’t forget to invite us to the wedding.”

“You really didn’t have to cook,” Youngho says, stacking up all the used plates. “I could’ve gotten takeout on my way over and saved you the trouble.”

“It’s no big deal. Cooking’s healthier.”

“Takeout’s _easier_.”

Taeil pauses, swiveling to rest his back against the sink. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Should I worry about what you’re feeding Mark, then?” he challenges.

“ _No_ ,” drawls Youngho, “because my mom makes enough food to last us a week.”

“Your mother is a saint and you are completely undeserving.”

“Completely.”

With a small shake of his head, Taeil returns to his task of washing the dishes. It’s a Friday night and they’ve just had dinner, a simple yet delicious bibimbap that Taeil whipped up. Yeri had been excused for some iPad time before bed and now it’s just the two of them in the kitchen.

In the early days of their newfound camaraderie, both he and Taeil were keen on filling the hollow spaces between them with superfluous words, but it gradually phased out once the they’ve reached some form of understanding. Now, Youngho can even say that he finds comfort in the silence.

“There are some dumplings in the fridge that I made yesterday,” Taeil mutters. “Bring some home for Mark later. He really liked them the last time.”

It’s astounding, how deeply Taeil cares for Mark; even when Mark is not his son, even when Mark was the impediment which circuitously prevented Yeri from having two parents. Youngho wouldn’t begrudge him if he were to be resentful but Taeil has never shown such signs.

Taeil is doting and sincere, qualities which he had even as a teenager when they first met. It makes something twinge inside Youngho, to realize that the past he has been eluding yet chasing, is right there in front of him.

“You spoil him too much.” Youngho grabs a dish towel from the drawer and comes up to the sink so he can dry while Taeil washes. “I don’t think a teacher is supposed to have favorites among their students.”

“Well, Mark is… different.”

“Because he’s mine?” Youngho asks, his tone light.

Taeil hums, in neither assent nor dissent.

They make quick work of the dishes, standing shoulder to shoulder – which isn’t entirely true, given that Youngho is significantly taller, but it feels companionable all the same. Domestic, even, if he’s masochistic enough to consider it, which he is.

Just as Youngho puts the last glass on the rack, Yeri pads into the kitchen, decked out in her pajamas.

“Daddy, are you staying over?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m going home later once I’m done talking to your dad.”

“Maybe you and Mark can sleep over next time,” Yeri suggests. “He can share my bed with me.”

“And where will I sleep? On the couch?”

Yeri grins at him cheekily, her teeth bared. “Dad has a pretty big bed.”

“O _kay_ , that’s enough for tonight,” Taeil cuts in. There are pink spots high on his cheeks. “We have a lot to talk about, so go to sleep.”

“Mm, goodnight, Dad. Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

Once Yeri has retreated to her room, Youngho and Taeil head out to the living room. Sheets of paper are scattered all over the worn coffee table; there’s also a planner and calendars, both this year’s and the next.

“This looks a little daunting,” comments Youngho, settling onto the couch. “I thought we could just text each other her schedule every now and then until she turns eighteen.”

This earns him an eyeroll from Taeil. “Don’t be ridiculous. She needs a routine.”

The calendars are already meticulously mapped out in different colors, with dates circled and small notes in the margin. It makes Youngho dizzy just to look at it.

“Your important dates are in green, mine are in red,” Taeil explains. “I’m sure you’d like Yeri with you on your, Mark’s and your parents’ birthdays. We’ll take turns for Chuseok, Christmas and her birthday, but you get first dibs this year since I already made you miss out on so much. Mutual dates are in blue – PTA meetings, school concerts, all that stuff. And then—”

“Taeil, slow down,” Youngho interrupts, not unkindly. “We’re only discussing our daughter but you’re acting like this is a huge business pitch.”

Taeil blushes. “It kind of is, to me,” he admits. “I just… really want to make sure that you’re in this.”

“Of course I am, but even now, I’m still processing that I have a daughter.” _With you_. “Honestly, all this—” Youngho gestures to the materials laid out on the table “—is overwhelming. I’d really like us to just talk first.”

Although Taeil doesn’t seem pleased with the suggestion, he gives in and sets aside the calendar he was poring over. He shifts on the couch to get comfortable.

“Okay, let’s talk.”

With barely two feet separating them, this is the closest they’ve been in ten years. The lights are dimmed, casting a mellow glow on the furniture, and the atmosphere is suddenly more intimate than Youngho had anticipated.

In his tatty gray hoodie and with his hair unmade, Taeil is the most relaxed Youngho has seen him in a long time. So unguarded, so _young_ , like he was when all this started.

“Taeil?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you believe we made a baby?”

Taeil laughs, but there’s no trace of nervousness in it. Instead, he sounds _fond_ , and something in Youngho aches fiercely.

“Even after carrying, giving birth to and watching her grow all these years, I still can’t believe it,” muses Taeil. “She came as a surprise, of course, but I wanted her from the beginning. There was never another option.”

The reminder that Yeri is the product of their ill-planned moments of passion jogs something in Youngho’s mind. There’s so much that he wants to say, a decade’s worth of surreptitious thoughts and sleepless nights, but he doesn’t know where to begin.

“I would have wanted her too. If you’d told me, nothing could make me leave.”

Taeil smiles at him but it’s edged with sadness. “I know,” he concedes, “which was why I had to make you.”

“You broke my heart.” Youngho has always fantasized about telling Taeil this, with every intention to inflict hurt and patch up his wounded pride, but he feels no satisfaction now.

“It broke mine to do that to you.”

Strangely enough, Youngho believes him.

“You had so much going for you, Youngho,” murmurs Taeil, his fingers flexing like he wants to reach out and touch Youngho but can’t quite bring himself to. His eyes are red with the strenuous effort of holding back tears. “What I did to you is unfair, that’s a given, but at the time… all I thought was that you deserved the best.”

“ _You_ were the best for me.” Perhaps it’s unfair to bring this up years down the line when it wouldn’t matter, but Youngho is exhausted at this point.

Taeil recoils like he’s been slapped. “You never _said_.”

“I shouldn’t have had to. I _know_ that you knew what I felt.”

“I couldn’t just assume, Youngho. You were such a good friend, and I—”

“Friends don’t fuck each other in the school locker room, Taeil.”

“ _Youngho_.”

Taeil frowns, like he’s annoyed by the usage of profanity, but Youngho knows better.

“It wasn’t just sex to me,” he says softly. “It was never supposed to be about sex at all, but sex was easier than facing the possibility you didn’t feel the same way.”

It’s a lie on his part. In fact, it was the most difficult thing in the world to limit their interactions to false intimacy when all Youngho wanted to do was _love_ him – hold him close, wake up to him in the morning, celebrate every milestone with him.

“I singlehandedly raised a child – your child, _ours_ – because I wanted you to have your dreams, even if I never saw you again.” Taeil looks everywhere but at him. “I think that’s enough of a testament to what I felt.”

This is the closest thing Youngho would get to a confession and it pains him that it’s too late. Could this even be considered closure, if it’s so excruciating?

“I kept asking Taeyong about you, throughout the years.”

Taeil grimaces. “I didn’t allow him to tell you anything. Please don’t be mad at him anymore.”

“I’m not,” Youngho says, surprised that he means it. “He was just protecting you. I’m glad you had our friends in your corner.”

“They would’ve been there for you too, if you let them.”

“I know. I just always thought you’d need them more.”

“It still wasn’t the same as having you.”

They both have their arms slung across the back of the couch. Before he could overthink it, Youngho inches forward and laces his fingers with Taeil’s, who makes no move to pull his hand away. They stay like that for a while, saying nothing, until Youngho realizes it’s getting late and he has to collect Mark from his parents.

“I’ll be back soon.” A reassurance, a promise.

“Of course you will,” Taeil answers, full of credence he didn’t have before. He stands outside the door to see Youngho off.

Just as Youngho is about to get into the elevator, he gives Taeil a small parting wave, which is returned with a shy smile.

As the doors of the elevator slide shut, Youngho finds that he misses Taeil already.

Something shifted that night, imperceptible to the naked eye but momentous for Taeil as the one on the receiving end. Youngho is suddenly present in a way he never was before; he is closer, warmer, and Taeil has neither the willpower nor desire to fend him off.

So he doesn’t. He allows the touches that are increasing in frequency, tries not to look away when Youngho’s gaze lingers on him longer than it should. In typical Youngho-and-Taeil fashion, they don’t address it, of course, but this time, there is solace in it – something unspoken yet definitive, and Taeil is content.

“How have things been with you and Youngho?”

Taeil is abruptly startled from his thoughts by Youngho’s mother, who sinks into the chair next to him. It’s a sunny day and they’re having a barbecue in the backyard. Youngho’s father is at the grill, while Youngho himself is kicking a soccer ball around with Mark and Yeri hot on his heels.

“It’s good,” says Taeil, careful not to give too much away. “Youngho has been taking everything in stride and Yeri adores him, so there’s that.”

“What about you? It can’t be easy, this co-parenting thing.”

“We’re figuring it out as we go along, I guess.”

Youngho’s mother hums, pouring herself a glass of lemonade. “That’s good to hear.”

She really doesn’t get the credit she deserves. Although keeping Yeri from Youngho was grim for her, she has remained staunch in her unobtrusive support for Taeil.

“I know what I did was wrong,” begins Taeil, biting down on his bottom lip, “and I would have to spend the rest of my life making it up to both Youngho and Yeri, but I want to thank you and your husband for respecting my wishes. You didn’t tell Youngho even when you could have. You always treated Yeri and I well, even when it hurt you to do so.”

“Oh, Taeil.” Youngho’s mother puts her glass down. “It pained me to keep something so important from my son, sure, but it was _never_ hard for me to be kind to you and Yeri. She is my granddaughter, and you have always been my favorite of his friends – don’t tell Taeyong that, though.”

Youngho’s father chuckles, moving from the grill to place a platter of ribs on the table.

“I think you’re the only person who ever came close to loving our son as much as we do, Taeil,” he says gently. “We can’t possibly resent you for that.”

Taeil doesn’t immediately respond, so as not to dislodge the lump in his throat. The last thing he wants to do is burst into tears in front of Youngho’s parents.

“I’ll do right by them from now on,” he avers, his voice shaky.

The look Youngho’s mother directs at him is soft, knowing.

“Personally, Taeil, I don’t think you can do any wrong in Youngho’s eyes.”

A few feet away, Youngho calls the haphazard game of soccer to an end. “I need a break,” he wheezes, walking toward the patio. “You rascals have too much energy for me to handle.”

Mark whines, “Daddy, we’ve only been playing for ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes too long.”

Before Mark could argue, Yeri remarks, “Well, I’m hungry anyway. We can play again after lunch.”

“Okay!”

Taeil and Youngho catch each other’s eye and laugh. It seems like Yeri is the only one who could get Mark to listen these days. Even Taeil, who is his actual teacher, holds less clout.

“Food looks great, Dad,” Youngho comments with approval, inspecting the spread on the table. “Taeil, the dessert’s in the fridge, right?” His hand settles on Taeil’s back so fleetingly that any other person would have missed it but Youngho’s shrewd mother doesn’t. She raises an eyebrow, amused.

The doorbell chimes.

Taeil rushes to say, “I’ll get that. And yes, the dessert I brought is in the fridge.” He paces to the front door as quickly as he can; though it’s probably only the postman, he’s grateful for the diversion nonetheless.

He yanks the door open to find someone who’s decidedly not the postman.

The woman blinks at him, uncertain. Her features are austere but she is undoubtedly beautiful, in an intimidating, high fashion kind of way. Straight, jet-black hair frames her perfectly symmetrical face.

Taeil doesn’t know her, not really, but he recognizes her from the framed picture on Mark’s bedside table.

“Hello,” the woman greets him. “I’m looking for Suh Youngho?”

Taeil feels like the walls are closing in on him. He could only gape at her, the thoughts roiling in his mind unable to string themselves into words.

Before he could say anything, he hears footsteps behind him, and then—

“Mommy?”

“Mark?” Krystal’s tense expression melts into something so emotive that it almost hurts Taeil to look at her. “Oh, my God, Mark. _Mark_.” She crouches down and Mark runs to her at lightning speed, barreling into her arms.

“I missed you,” Mark tells her, his tiny voice muffled by her shirt.

“I missed you too, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Krystal?”

Youngho comes to a halt in the foyer, with Yeri in tow.

“Johnny,” breathes Krystal, straightening up. Her eyes are watery. “Jessica gave me your apartment’s address but you weren’t there and I just- I kept your parent’s address and I…” She trails off, wipes a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

It takes only a few quick strides for Youngho to reach her, then she’s wrapped up in his arms and he’s murmuring something that only she can hear. After a while, she draws back and nods, returning to Mark. She hugs him again and Youngho holds them both.

Ten years in the making, yet it all collapsed in the blink of an eye. Taeil has always known it was too good to be true.

“Yeri.” Yeri perks up at the call. “Go and get your bag. We’re leaving a little early today.”

“Wait, what?” Alarmed, Youngho stands up. “You don’t have to go.” He looks torn, a little wounded, and Taeil wishes he could console him.

“Please don’t go,” Krystal says, embarrassed. “I don’t want to impose. I can just come back later.”

Of course she has to be polite about it. Taeil feels like he could scream.

“Something came up. We have to leave.”

“But we haven’t even eaten, Uncle Taeil.” Mark is pouting now, clearly upset, but Taeil steels his resolve.

“I’m sorry, Mark. Maybe next time, okay?”

For once, Yeri doesn’t complain and ask one too many questions like she normally would. As she goes to retrieve her bag and say goodbye to her grandparents, Youngho approaches Taeil, looking harried.

“Taeil.” His tone is beseeching, concerned. “Why are you leaving? Krystal and I need to talk, yes, but you can stay. Please stay.” He tries to touch him but Taeil moves out of his reach. Youngho lets his hand drop to his side, stung.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Just do what you have to do.”

“I’ll call you later,” Youngho promises, bordering on desperation. “Or I’ll come over.”

Taeil doesn’t respond, only ushering Yeri out the door after a cursory farewell to Mark and Krystal. Neither of them look back and Youngho doesn’t come after them.

They make it until the end of the driveway before Yeri asks, “Who was that lady?”

“Mark’s mother.”

Yeri contemplates this for a moment. “She seems nice, though. Why couldn’t we stay?”

Guilt rips through Taeil. He’s being unreasonable yet again, having let sentiments get the better of him.

“You can stay if you want,” he sighs eventually, “but I’m going. Your dad can send you home later.”

Resolutely, Yeri shakes her head. “I’m going with you, Dad. We’re a team.”

“Of course, kid. It’s me and you against the world.”

 _Now and always_.


	6. gritting your teeth, you hold on to me

As much as he hates himself for it, Taeil must admit that he is a coward.

It’s been a week since Krystal arrived, which means that Taeil has also been diligently ignoring Youngho for a week. He doesn’t answer his calls and only replies to texts about Yeri. Taeil is relieved that Youngho is too busy juggling work, two kids and an ex to be able to ambush him in person, though he knows it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

He’ll cross that hurdle when he comes to it.

“Uncle Taeil, can I ask you something?”

Taeil is about to gently reprove Mark for addressing him so casually while they’re still at school, before realizing that the bell has already rung and the day is over.

“Sure,” he accedes. “What is it?”

“Are you mad at Daddy?”

Well, shit.

“Of course not,” Taeil answers smoothly, albeit through clenched teeth. “There’s no reason for me to be mad at him.”

The anger should be directed at himself, if at all. He was the one foolish enough to have entertained the thought that he and Youngho could pick up where they left off.

Timidly, Mark looks up at him, bright eyes speckled with worry.

“Then is it me?” he asks, his voice small. “Are you mad at me?”

Taeil feels like he could choke from the guilt ballooning in his windpipe. The last thing he wants is for the kids to become embroiled in the mess he had unwittingly created. His only duty to Mark is to nurture him, _protect_ him, and it appears he’s failed on all counts.

“Sweetie,” says Taeil, a slight crack to his voice, “I swear I’m not mad at you. You’re such a great kid and I enjoy each second I spend with you. How could I possibly be mad?”

“Then why don’t you hang out with us anymore? It’s just Yeri-noona by herself now.”

Despite the circumstances, Taeil can’t help but to chuckle fondly. “It’s only been a week since we were all at your grandparents’ house.”

“You didn’t even stay to _eat_ ,” Mark refutes, a stubborn jut to his chin.

“Well, things seemed a little hectic since your mom just arrived, and I didn’t want to be a bother.” Against his better judgment, Taeil prods, “How is she? I bet you’re spending a lot of time with her.”

Mark lights up like a Christmas tree at the mention of Krystal. Taeil feels a pang of acute yearning for this sweet, sweet boy who is hers and could never be his.

“Yeah, and I’m having the _best_ time. The other night, I went to see a movie with Daddy and Mommy, and Daddy let me have a popcorn all to myself.”

 _Mark, Daddy, Mommy._ There’s something poetic in the way they fit together; like a puzzle that couldn’t be completed for the longest time until one day, you root around the couch cushions and resurface with the missing piece.

“Wow, that sounds fun, huh?”

“Maybe you and Yeri-noona can come with us next time,” Mark suggests. “It’ll be more fun then.”

“Maybe.”

Mark seems to hesitate before slumping forward. “I miss you, Uncle Taeil. Daddy doesn’t say it, but I know he does too.”

Surely nothing in this world could quell this hurt, so sweeping and broad like vines creeping up a brick house.

“I miss you too,” Taeil says softly, drawing the boy into his arms. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Eventually Youngho’s father comes to collect Mark. When Jungwoo announces his arrival, Taeil hides in the supply closet until he leaves, not willing to face the pity that would surely be cast his way if they were to converse.

He must’ve sought refuge for a tad too long because when he pushes the door open, Sicheng is standing right in front of him.

“Uh, hi.”

“I came over to work on the project, but you weren’t around.” Grinning crookedly, Sicheng says, “Before he left, Jungwoo told me you were in here. Any reason why?”

“It’s a long story,” Taeil sighs, stepping out of the closet. He notices that Sicheng’s laptop is already on his desk. They’ve been working on their presentation for the Korea-China Cultural Day every single day this week but surprisingly, Taeil isn’t too distressed by it. He discovered, once they’ve gotten past the formalities, that Sicheng is actually decent company.

“Maybe it’s a story that you can tell me over dinner?”

Taeil stops rifling through the papers on his desk.

“Excuse me?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” begs Sicheng, his entire face reddening. “I’m sure you heard me the first time.”

“It’s not that!” Taeil holds his hands up. “I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything, I swear. I’m just… surprised.”

The look Sicheng fixes him with is amused, with a heavy sprinkling of _are you kidding me right now?_

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that Joohyun-ssi has been trying to set us up for months now,” he remarks, “so I’m only giving the audience what they asked for.”

“The audience is one person.”

“My invitation still stands. If you want to, of course. No pressure.”

Though he’s still largely reticent, there’s the slightest edge of confidence to Sicheng’s posture that wasn’t there before. Taeil is endeared by the notion that the time they’ve spent together throughout the week has given Sicheng this degree of comfort around him.

All of a sudden, he feels overwhelmingly shy.

“I’m a single dad, you know,” Taeil jests. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, if you’re asking for a date.”

Sicheng stands firm, especially in the face of this revelation he already knows of.

“It doesn’t have to be a date. It could just be two colleagues having a meal together, if that’s what you want it to be.” His brows knit together, as if in serious thought. “And haven’t I made it clear by now that you having a daughter is not an issue?”

It’s startlingly odd for Taeil, meeting someone who doesn’t hold his past transgressions over his head. Perhaps this is the fresh start he always dreamed of but never dared pursue. He may be shackled to Youngho for all eternity by virtue of their daughter, but he can’t possibly let himself become a slave to his unrequited feelings any longer.

Taeil’s place in Youngho’s life will only ever be at the periphery, on the outside looking in. He lost the chance to enter a long time ago.

“I agree to dinner,” Taeil concedes, “but whether it’s a date or not, that’s for me to decide.”

Sicheng beams at him, unruffled by the caveat. “Fine by me.”

“Hot pink.”

Youngho couldn’t help but cringe. “Sweetheart, could you pick a color that’s less… obvious?” he tries.

Yeri frowns at him, clearly displeased. “You said I could pick a color for you.”

“I don’t really want to walk into my big meeting tomorrow with pink nails.”

“Well, _you_ said _I_ could pick.”

The nail technician who’s been patiently assisting them decides to intercede, much to Youngho’s relief. “Why don’t we do the pink on your toes instead?” he suggests. “Nobody can see them but they’d still definitely be there, in the color your daughter chose.”

Mollified by the compromise, Yeri flounces to her designated seat.

“Thank you so much for that,” whispers Youngho to the nail technician. “She’s a bit of a handful, as you can see.”

“No problem, sir. We’re pretty experienced at dealing with father-daughter pairs here.”

Mark is spending the day with Krystal and her relatives, so Youngho figured this would be a good opportunity for him to bond with his daughter. It’s the first time he and Yeri have been out just the two of them, and it goes without saying that he is a touch nervous due to the absence of a buffer.

“Daddy, come on,” Yeri coaxes him. She’s already snuggled into her seat, feet in the sink. The sight makes Youngho smile.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable. Come here often?”

“Aunt Seulgi takes me sometimes as a treat. I really like it.”

“Maybe this could be our thing now,” says Youngho, keen to indulge her. “Just you and me, once a month. What do you say?”

Yeri blushes just a little bit. “I’d like that.”

As the nail technicians get to work, Yeri regales Youngho with tales from school, getting particularly heated about a recent fight with her best friend Herin. Youngho would be concerned, if not for the fact Taeil had already informed him of the dynamics between the girls. 

_Don’t forget to pick up Yeri today. If the teacher tells you that she and Herin fought – don’t bother. They fight a lot but always make up after. I’ll get Yeri from your parents’ after dinner. Remind her to practice the piano. Thanks._

Unfortunately for them, they are not as good at communication as Yeri and Herin are. Ever since Krystal arrived, there’s been a shift, a deep crack in the ground, and Youngho had gotten whiplash from just how quickly Taeil shut him out. He could clarify the entire situation, he _wants_ to, but Taeil refuses to give him even the slightest opening.

It aches, especially when the progress made, tentative as it may be, had been so promising. Now it’s gone; bleached out, leaving only an acrid stain in its place.

“Daddy, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing.”

“Are you and Aunt Krystal in love?”

Youngho swallows. He knows Yeri is inquisitive by nature and since the only explanation she’s been given is that Krystal is Mark’s mother, it’s not unlike her to probe.

“No, we’re not in love,” he says after some thought, “but I do love her.”

“How does that work?” Yeri asks, wrinkling her nose.

“We no longer want to be together but there was a time when we did. We had a lot of good memories together then, even if we don’t have the same feelings for each other now.” Wistfully, Youngho supplies, “I will always love her, because I am thankful she gave me Mark and because she is my friend.”

Yeri takes her time to mull it over. “So you don’t _love_ love her? Like Uncle Taeyong and Aunt Seulgi, Uncle Jaehyun and Uncle Doyoung, Grandma and Grandpa?”

“No, not like that.”

“Do you love Dad?”

It’s a question he saw coming a mile away yet Youngho is still stumped by it when it does manifest.

“I do,” he admits. The release is as painful as it is liberating.

“Do you _love_ love Dad?”

By now, it’s evident that the nail technicians are listening in on their conversation. One of them has even paused her task and is leaning forward, eager to find out his answer with bated breath.

“I think I’ve answered enough invasive questions for today,” Youngho chirps. He leans over to ruffle his daughter’s hair. “All _you_ need to know is I love you and Mark equally.”

Yeri jerks away with a shriek, hands coming up to fix the ribbons in her hair, but she seems gratified by his words.

Even so, she doesn’t let the issue rest as easily as he’d hoped.

“I’m just saying,” she points out, and rather self-righteously at that, “if you love Dad, you should tell him. He’s been grumpy lately; maybe it’ll cheer him up.”

“Maybe he’s just grumpy because you’ve been giving him a lot of trouble,” teases Youngho.

“That’s not true! I don’t give anyone any trouble.” Shrugging, Yeri continues, “I think he’s just tired because of the project he’s working on with Uncle Sicheng for the school. They’ve been spending a lot of time on it.”

The reference to a new, unknown name piques Youngho’s interest. He doesn’t recall Taeil or Mark ever mentioning a _Sicheng_ before.

“Who is this ‘Uncle Sicheng’, hmm?”

“He’s the new Chinese teacher at the kindergarten. He’s _really_ nice and _so_ handsome.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on him, honey.”

“No,” refutes Yeri with a roll of her eyes. “But he does have a crush on Dad.”

It suddenly becomes difficult for Youngho to feign nonchalance but he tries, although his heartbeat is skittering with nerves.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they’re going out.” Yeri turns to face him full on, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t Dad tell you? I’m sleeping over with you and Mark tonight because he has a _date_.”

He still hasn’t given Sicheng a definite answer as to whether their dinner plans constitute a date but since every article of clothing he owns is on his bed, Taeil thinks it’s safe to assume that he’s at least preparing himself like it is.

In all honesty, Taeil can’t remember the last time he went out on a date. There was that one guy in college, who predictably ghosted him after finding out he has a kid. Then there was Seulgi’s friend Jongin some years back, who was not just gracious but also incredibly _hot_. They split up after just five months because Jongin claimed he was “emotionally unavailable.”

For obvious reasons.

Taeil had called Taeyong for fashion advice but instead of guidance, what he got was akin to a lecture.

“Does Youngho know you have a date?”

“Why does he have to know?”

After a beat of silence, Taeyong says, “I thought you guys were trying to work things out.”

“We weren’t,” replies Taeil derisively, “and in case you haven’t noticed, his ex is back in the picture. Have you seen her? She looks like a model.”

“Taeil-ah, you know Krystal has some problems. Youngho is just trying to help her through them, for Mark’s sake. It’s not like _that_ , not like what you’re thinking.”

His irritation mounting, Taeil decides to end the call before he lashes out even more. 

“You know what, I have to go. I’ll talk to you some other time.”

Taeyong lets out a heavy sigh. “At least let me know later how the date went,” he murmurs. It’s a tacit apology for overstepping.

“I will.”

Taeil is in the midst of choosing between a white shirt or a blue one when the doorbell rings. With his mind occupied, he doesn’t bother to check who it is and just opens the door.

It’s Youngho.

His blood runs cold.

Bypassing a greeting, Youngho says, “Yeri forgot her toiletries. Her toothbrush and shampoo, I think. I told her I’d pick them up on my way to get dinner.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. Come in. I’ll go and get them for you.”

As he gathers Yeri’s things, Taeil can’t help but ponder about Youngho’s sudden appearance. For some reason, although he knows he has done nothing wrong, he feels like he’s been caught in a trap of his own making.

Disconcerted, Taeil hurriedly shoves everything into a bag so he can get Youngho to leave sooner.

“Here.” He ambles into the living room and offers the bag to Youngho. “Um, have fun. I’ll come and get her after breakfast tomorrow.”

Instead of taking the bag, Youngho looks him over coolly. “I tried calling you all week.”

“I’ve been busy,” Taeil retorts. He immediately recognizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Youngho’s eyes flash in his direction.

“Busy with your new _boyfriend_ , huh?”

All traces of the discomfort Taeil initially harbored vanish. Instead, he feels cold anger seep into his bones.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he snaps, “and even if he were, it’s none of your business.”

Youngho scoffs, his stance hardening as he realizes their little talk has officially become a full-blown confrontation.

“Enough of this bullshit, Taeil. We’re not eighteen anymore. We have a _daughter_ , for Christ’s sake.” Youngho runs a hand through his tousled hair, frustrated. “If we were only co-parents, then sure, go ahead and date whoever. But you really want to pretend the past few weeks didn’t happen? Like we didn’t sit on that couch right there, talking about our fucking feelings?”

“We never decided on anything for certain,” counters Taeil, knowing it’s a weak comeback even as the words leave his mouth. His brain is going into overdrive as he tries to figure out the best way to protect himself in this argument that could only lead to carnage.

“Of course we didn’t,” Youngho mocks. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Only _you_ get the final say, right? Isn’t that your favorite thing to do – make my decisions for me?”

Every syllable is uttered with the aim to hurt, and hurt it does. Taeil takes in a shuddering breath.

“You know that’s not fair.”

“You don’t get to talk about fairness. If you cared about what’s fair, you would’ve given me the chance to explain.”

“What’s there to explain?”

“ _What’s there_ — oh, God, are you even listening to yourself?” In his rage, Youngho seems to double in size. His presence fills the room, blocking every exit, ensnaring Taeil within its confines. “We were doing good, Taeil. We were on the same page, _finally_ , then Krystal shows up and you balk, like a dog with your tail between your legs.”

Distraught, Taeil points a finger harshly at him. “I did you a favor,” he spits. “I did it to protect our daughter.”

“Stop using Yeri as an excuse!”

“She’s not an excuse!” By now, both of them are shouting and Taeil could only hope his neighbors aren’t around to hear them. “She’s the only consideration in my life. My _purpose_. So don’t you dare call her an excuse.”

“Then what? What did you have to protect her from?” Youngho demands to know, taking his tone down a notch.

“From _you_.”

Youngho’s expression twists into something ugly. “What the—”

“Yeri is the family you were given. Mark and Krystal are the family you _made_. If push comes to shove, which one would you choose?” Tears threaten to spill and Taeil lets them this time. “I can’t let Yeri think she’ll get to have both of us. Not in that way.”

Youngho shakes his head. The movement is slow, tired.

“You think you know me so well, don’t you? What I’d say, how I’d react.” The gaze Youngho levels him with is drawn, miserable and disappointed in equal measures. “Now it’s pretty clear that you don’t. Not at all. And instead of finding out, instead of talking to me about it, you run to someone else.”

“It’s not—”

“I wouldn’t even mind if you genuinely didn’t want to be with me,” Youngho cuts him off. “I care enough to want the best for you, even if the best is someone else, but not for this. Not because of these ridiculous reasons you made up.”

The remark chafes at his ego. “You don’t see it now but you will,” says Taeil, trying to sound sure when all he wants is to cave, to cross the distance between them.

“Oh, I guess I will, once Krystal and I ride off into the sunset with Mark in the backseat, since you’re so certain that’s the way things will be.”

“That’s how it should be.”

Youngho exhales, an attempt at a laugh though it sounds like anything but. “You have a lot of ideas about how things _should_ be,” he states, “but never once have you ever thought about what _you_ want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Taeil sniffs.

“It matters to me, Taeil. But if it doesn’t matter to you, then there’s only so much I can do.”

Now that they’re no longer yelling at each other, Taeil feels exhaustion settle deep within him. “I think you should go, Youngho,” he says. “I have to get ready for—”

“—your date. I know.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Does it matter what it is? You made a choice.” Youngho doesn’t say it but Taeil hears the rest – _and the choice wasn’t me_.

Taeil swipes at his face, sticky from all the crying. “Please don’t make this any harder than it should be.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s hard because it’s not the right thing to do?” questions Youngho.

“That’s enough.”

They stare each other down silently. Youngho is the first to break away, seizing the bag of Yeri’s toiletries. “Maybe someday you’ll learn to live your life without being guided by fear,” he says sharply, “but until then, just keep running and hiding. It’s what you do best anyway.” Before he closes the door behind him, he makes it a point to add: “Enjoy your date.”

“You know that I didn’t force you to have dinner with me, right?”

Confused, Taeil looks up from the bowl of stew he had been stirring. “What do you mean?”

Sicheng gives him a melancholic half-smile. “We’ve been here half an hour and I think you’ve probably spoken to me all of three times,” he says. “If you didn’t want us to have dinner, you could’ve said no. I have enough respect for you to handle rejection.”

“It’s not that,” says Taeil, feeling the onset of a headache. “I like hanging out with you and I’m sorry for being rude. There’s just some stuff going on right now.”

“Is it your daughter? Is everything okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s with her dad tonight and… that’s it, I guess. That’s the issue.” Taeil gnaws on his bottom lip. “We had a bit of a fight before I came here – her father and I – so I’m not in the best state of mind at the moment. I didn’t want to bail on you so I decided to come anyway which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best decision. I’m really sorry.”

Eyes narrowed, Sicheng presses, “What kind of fight?”

Taeil feels an abrupt surge of defensiveness at the tone Sicheng adopts, even if he is still upset at Youngho.

“Not the kind you’re thinking. Youngho isn’t like that. He would _never_ ,” he insists heatedly.

Sicheng regards him with scrutiny for probably a good ten seconds before he leans back into his seat, lips curling into a knowing smirk. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

It’s more of a statement than a question.

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s the most emotion you’ve shown since I first got to know you, Taeil-ssi. You wouldn’t get so riled up if you didn’t care,” says Sicheng. “It’s not the fight that’s on your mind. It’s _him_.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “To be defeated before I could even begin; how disappointing.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Taeil toys with his straw, too ashamed to look Sicheng in the eye.

“Please don’t apologize. You don’t owe me anything.” Despite his chagrin, Sicheng is nothing but sincere. “I meant what I said – this isn’t a date unless you want it to be. I’m grateful for your kindness no matter what. Among our colleagues, you’ve helped me the most.”

“I wasn’t leading you on, was I? If I did, I swear that wasn’t my intention.”

“You didn’t. I had a crush and I acted on it, so that’s on me,” Sicheng murmurs, his face flushed.

Taeil racks his brain for something that could ease the sting but comes up empty.

“You’re still young, Sicheng,” he says eventually. “You’ll meet so many other people, all of them better than me.”

“Okay, let’s not do the ‘you deserve better’ talk.” Sicheng winces, knocking back a glass of soju. “I’ll get over it. Just give me a couple of months.”

“ _Months_? Here I was, thinking I’m worth much more than that,” laments Taeil.

Sicheng laughs. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

They eat their meals without speaking but even then it’s already more comfortable than the quixotic atmosphere they tried to force. Taeil genuinely hopes he won’t lose this; he has come to appreciate Sicheng’s company and already considers him a close acquaintance, if not a friend.

“Sicheng.”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t use you to get back at Youngho or anything like that. I truly wanted to have dinner with you.”

“I know,” Sicheng concedes, his voice gentle. “I’m not faulting you for trying.”

Sighing, Taeil sets his chopsticks down. “Things are just incredibly complicated between us,” he divulges, “and we can’t seem to ever make it simple. It’s hurting me, him, our kids.”

“Wait— _kids_? As in plural?”

Taeil tells him everything, from his and Youngho’s first encounter at fifteen, to Krystal’s reappearance just a week ago. Sicheng listens with rapt attention, completely engrossed by every detail.

“So there you have it,” Taeil finishes with a flourish of his hand. “The story of my life.”

“Jesus.” Shaking his head, Sicheng pours himself some water. “At this point I’m glad you didn’t want to date me. I would not have fared well, being a part of such chaos.”

“See? There is a silver lining after all.”

Sicheng takes slow sips as he muses about what Taeil has told him. After some time, he volunteers, “I think you’re the one making things more difficult than they are.”

“Hey.” Taeil scowls at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” Sicheng couldn’t help but jab, though it’s only teasing. There’s no bitter undercurrent at all. “Listen, the solution is so easy. You love him, he loves you, your kids love each other. Do I need to spell it out for you? I’m sure you know exactly what I’m implying.”

“His ex—”

“For once, stop making assumptions. That’s what got you into this mess, isn’t it?”

Affronted, Taeil says, “I’m still your colleague and I’m older than you. You should treat me with a little more respect.”

“We’re past all that, _hyung_ ,” Sicheng rebuts loftily. “We’re at the bitter truth stage now.”

Taeil glares at him, hoping it would dissuade him, but it doesn’t.

“After ten years, you still can’t let him go. After ten years, he’s still chasing after you. What does it all mean?”

“He’s not chasing after me.”

The look Sicheng shoots at him is so flat and unfeeling, Taeil almost feels guilty.

“He showed up at your house, right before you were about to go on a date,” states Sicheng.

“He was just picking up Yeri’s toiletries.”

Sicheng snorts loudly at this. “Your daughter needed a toothbrush and a shampoo. I’m positive he makes enough money to be able to just buy some instead of getting them from your house.”

It’s a reflex for Taeil at this point, to deny every sign and block all hints, but he is also so very jaded. All he could manage is a shrug.

“You’re a wonderful person,” says Sicheng. His gaze is tender, laced with something wishful, and Taeil aches for him. If things were different, perhaps he could have given Sicheng a chance but as it stands, his heart would always choose Youngho; in any dimension, in every lifetime. “You deserve to be happy, even if you don’t believe it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sicheng shifts in his chair and the emotions in his eyes scatter. Taeil hopes they never return. “Anyway, since this isn’t a date, you’re paying for dinner.”

“How come?”

“Isn’t it Korean culture among _friends_? For the older one to treat the younger one?”

Groaning, Taeil pulls his wallet out of his pocket.

“So,” Youngho begins, taking a sip of his coffee. “I may or may not have completely destroyed my love life last night.”

“What love life?”

“Oh, shut up. I’m being serious here.”

“Okay, fine,” concedes Krystal. “What did you do?”

Youngho gives her a play-by-play of his argument with Taeil, trying not to grimace as the critical frown on her face deepens with every word he utters. Even after he ends his rant, Krystal remains quiet. He waits for her to speak since he knows she’ll have some choice words for him.

“Both of you are idiots, basically,” is her ultimate feedback.

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“— _but_ you most of all.” Youngho yelps when Krystal punches him on the arm. “Was it so hard to be patient? To convince him that even with me around, he’s the one you want? You just had to go all macho man and start screaming at him. No wonder he retaliated the way he did.”

“He has his faults too, you know.”

Heaving a sigh, Krystal reaches over and steals a gulp of his coffee. “Of course he does,” she acknowledges. “He hid a whole _child_ from you for nearly a decade. That’s a big boo-boo if I do say so myself.”

“Exactly.”

“But he did it because he loves you. He went about it all wrong but his priority was always you.” Eyes twinkling mirthfully, Krystal knocks their shoulders together. “This is the guy you cried about the first time we had sex, Johnny. Don’t tell me you’re going to let him out of your grasp just like that.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I couldn’t even enjoy my post-orgasm high because I had to keep rubbing your back while you sniveled all over my lap like an overgrown baby.”

Youngho shudders, feeling the humiliation creep up his neck, which is made even worse by Krystal’s incessant giggling.

After a while, her laughter tapers off and she leans into his side. Youngho slides an arm around her.

“We missed you, you know,” he says softly, cheek pressed against the crown of Krystal’s head. From the bench they’re seated on, they have a clear view of their son. Mark cheers as he goes down the slide for the umpteenth time.

“I missed you both too. I’m sorry I left. I couldn’t… It wasn’t right for me to be around him when I was like that.”

“I could’ve helped you.”

Krystal squeezes his knee. “You tried, Johnny,” she answers. “You tried until you couldn’t anymore.”

“If I’d tried harder—”

“—we still wouldn’t have been happy together. I would still be hurting. Don’t lie to yourself like that.” Smiling sadly at him, Krystal cuffs his chin. “We had a good run, though. And look at our baby. He’s perfect.”

“He is,” Youngho notes with pride.

“That’s all your doing.”

“He’s half you, too.”

“Genetically, but—”

“Krystal.” Taking both her hands in his, Youngho forces her to look at him. “Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , can change who you are to him. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, Mark is your son and you are his mother. I will make sure nobody takes that away from you. Not now and not ever.”

Stifling a dry sob, Krystal leans forward and buries her face in his chest. Youngho holds her tight.

“I’m trying to get better,” she vows. “I really am. Therapy, medication, support group.”

“And I’m proud of you. Even if you don’t get better, I’d still be proud of you for trying.”

Krystal wipes her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “I’d like to be in contact with you guys more often,” she suggests. “We can set up a schedule, for Facetime and calls, and maybe you can bring Mark to come and visit us next year? Jessica misses him.”

“Of course,” says Youngho, and he means it. “I miss America too.”

“Mm, and you can bring Yeri and Taeil with you.”

“As if Taeil could stand being on a twelve-hour flight with me. He’ll commit homicide.”

Rolling her eyes, Krystal chides, “You’re being overdramatic.” When Youngho doesn’t reply, she plows on. “Life has somehow led you back here, Johnny. And Taeil is right there. Hurt, scarred, angry – but still _right there_ , and waiting for you. Don’t waste this.”

“I think it’s a little too late for us, Krystal.” Youngho looks down at his fingernails. “There’s too much damage.”

“Would you rather put extra effort into repairing that damage, or would you rather live the rest of your life in regret?”

“Okay, Aristotle, I see you.”

Krystal pinches his side, making him howl. “You’re such an asshole,” she complains.

“An asshole you had a kid with.” 

“Unfortunately.”

They settle back against the bench, flush against each other. “I love you, Johnny,” Krystal murmurs, “and I want you to be happy. You’ve made so many sacrifices for me and for Mark. Taeil made so many sacrifices for _you_. Don’t let him push you away. Not this time.”

Youngho doesn’t respond. He doesn’t quite know what to say, convinced that his indiscretions last night have trespassed beyond what Taeil would be willing to absolve. There was so much pain, fissuring and snapping, that Youngho doesn’t think he could even find it in him to forgive himself.

“He’s already seeing someone else, I think,” he mutters, defeated.

“That’s what you think,” says Krystal lightly, “and thinking has never been your strong suit.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Just consider it, John. You’ve gotten too far to only start second-guessing yourself.”

Mark canters toward them, a dainty origami swan clutched in his hand. “Mommy, look what I made!” 

“Oh, that’s beautiful, baby,” gushes Krystal, inspecting it closely. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“Uncle Taeil did.”

“He must’ve taught you well.”

“He teaches me a lot of things,” Mark boasts. After depositing the swan in his mother’s lap, he leaves to rejoin the other kids by the swings.

Krystal pointedly places the paper swan on Youngho’s palm. “For all the mistakes that Taeil has made,” she comments, “Mark seems to adore him regardless. He’s done right by not just your daughter but also your son. What else do you need to convince you to fight for him?”

Nothing. Taeil is all he needs; all he has ever wanted since he was old enough to feel _want_.

“Nothing,” Youngho says out loud.

Running a thumb across his jaw, Krystal smiles. “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I can't believe there's just one chapter left... I wrote this story completely on a whim and never thought I would get round to finishing it lol


	7. ever thine, ever mine, ever ours

Taeil feels like he’s spent the last few days trudging through a haze. While he is glad that certain aspects of his life have been slotted into place, there is a gaping crater, scorching and white hot, left over from his fight with Youngho. His mind is consumed by it, like black ink seeping into his thoughts, and Taeil is exhausted.

More than that, he is pained; inundated with regret and longing that he cannot subdue.

“Hyung?”

Looking up from the computer screen, Taeil raises an eyebrow at his assistant. “Yes?”

“It’s playtime,” Jungwoo says. “I know it’s technically my job to watch the kids, but do you think you might want to? You look like you could use the fresh air.” His gentle smile is more kind than it is sympathetic, which Taeil is thankful for. He doesn’t think he has it in him to react gracefully to even an ounce more of pity.

“I’ll take you up on that offer only if you set up for the next lesson.”

“No problem.”

Taeil shepherds the kids outside, reminding them of the playground rules as they move along. He waves at Joohyun, who is also monitoring her class. Now that he actually had gone on a date with Sicheng, Taeil finds that his interactions with his colleagues – Joohyun in particular – have progressed to become more pleasant, even if the date was unsuccessful.

He supposes their concerns were assuaged by the fact that for once, there was an active attempt on his part to restart his love life.

Not that it matters, given the circumstances, but a step forward is still better than none.

“Taeil-ssi?”

Surprised, Taeil turns and comes face to face with Krystal.

“Krystal-ssi,” splutters Taeil, blindsided by her sudden appearance. He drops into a slight bow and wills himself to keep his nerves in check. “I wasn’t informed that you were picking Mark up today. Is there any reason he’s leaving early? I’ll have to call—”

“Oh, I’m not here to pick him up.” Krystal eyes him with interest. Taeil couldn’t help but note that her makeup is perfect today, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She’s _stunning_ and it makes him a little sick.

“Actually,” she continues, “I’m here to talk to you.”

Well.

This is it. This is when she tells him to back off, to get lost, and it’s going to happen within earshot of his students.

Of _Mark_.

Taeil could almost feel his heart disintegrating and bleeding through his ribcage.

“Oh, God, that came out worse than I thought,” Krystal hurries to console him, concerned by how ashy his face has become. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Please relax, Taeil-ssi. If Johnny finds out I came here and terrorized you, he’s going to kill me.”

“Wh-what—”

“I decided to speak to you because it’s obvious he wouldn’t, since his head is stuck pretty far up his ass.” Heaving a sigh, Krystal demands: “What’s the deal with you two?”

“Nothing.” The reply is fast, automatic. “Krystal-ssi, I wouldn’t disrespect you like that, and there’s—”

Krystal stares at him, unimpressed. “You’re disrespecting me by telling me there’s _nothing_.”

“There really is nothing,” protests Taeil weakly.

“And why is that? Both of you been pining over each other for a decade, literally. You have a _child_ together. What’s stopping you?”

“There is no pining.”

“Listen, Taeil,” Krystal begins, dropping the honorifics in her exasperation. “Let me brief you a little bit about my history with Joh— Youngho. When we first met, he was twenty-two and about to graduate. Guess how many people he dated throughout college?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _None_. Because he was hung up over you.” Softening her tone, Krystal says, “I’ve known about you from the very beginning, Taeil. You were the one and that hasn’t changed for him, not one bit. I don’t expect you to understand the dynamics of my relationship with him, but you need to know that it could never even come close to what he feels for you.”

On the cusp of tears, Taeil inhales deeply to regain whatever control he has left. This is neither the time nor place for crying.

“You and Mark are his family, Krystal. There’s no room for me.”

“In his book, there is always more than enough room for family,” murmurs Krystal, “but there will never be room for anyone else except you.”

It’s draining to keep up a façade, to pretend that he isn’t wounded and wanting, so Taeil lets it slip.

“You came back. What was I supposed to think?”

“I only came back for my son and for my friend.” Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, Krystal shakes her head. “I probably don’t deserve to, given how I walked out on them, but I love them so much, despite everything. I’ve spent the past few months reflecting and figuring out what I need and now I’m in a better place to be around them, especially Mark. To be present.” 

Clearing his throat, Taeil tells her, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You must’ve had your reasons and either way, Youngho and Mark love you.”

“They love you too. And Yeri, of course.” Krystal beams at him and it’s genuine, completely bereft of any ill intent.

Taeil realizes then that he made her the villain when all along, the culprit is his own ugly doubts.

“I’m scared,” Taeil shakily admits. “I wouldn’t know where to start, how to fix everything. There’s been so many lies, so much hurting, all the stubborn pride…”

“I can talk to you and I can talk to Youngho, but that’s as much as I can do. The rest is in your hands, and his.”

“He was so _mad_ , I can’t—”

Krystal raises a hand, effectively cutting his rambling short. “I’m sure you know that anger isn’t really an emotion he is capable of holding onto. Jesus, he wasn’t even angry for that long when he discovered he has a nine-year-old daughter with you – and that was when he had every right to be.”

Taeil cringes at the remark, which he knows isn’t unwarranted.

“Please just talk to him, Taeil. Whatever the outcome is, I hope you guys can reach an amicable solution for the kids’ sake. This mess is affecting them.”

“I know. We will put them first no matter what, that’s a promise.”

The look that Krystal gives him is pensive. “Thank you for taking care of my son when I couldn’t,” she says quietly. “He’s grown so much and I can see how happy he is.”

“I love him very much and I want him to be happy too.”

“Can you find it in you to love his father then, and make _him_ happy?”

It’s a loaded question with multiple layers but Taeil knows deep down inside that there is only one right answer. He is suddenly overwhelmed, more than ten years’ worth of emotions welling up in his gut, but he is tired of letting his choices be dictated by blind fear. It has cost him far too much and at this point, he cannot afford to lose any more.

 _Enough_.

“I have always loved his father,” Taeil finds himself uttering words that he never thought he would, “and I wish to make him happy.”

Before Krystal could respond, they are interrupted by two small figures running toward them at top speed.

It’s Renjun and Donghyuck, their faces white as a sheet.

“Boys?” says Taeil, instantly on alert. “What happened?”

“Teacher Moon,” Renjun pants. “Mark fell from the monkey bars. He can’t move his hand!”

Youngho takes long, purposeful strides along the sterile hallways as he looks for the room his son is in. Krystal has assured him that the injuries are minimal, but he wouldn’t be at peace until he gets to inspect Mark himself.

Although, judging by how agitated Taeil is, Youngho briefly wonders if Krystal lied to him.

“Taeil?”

At the sound of his voice, Taeil whips his head around so fast that Youngho nearly winces.

Eyes red-rimmed and lips chapped from the incessant gnawing, Taeil looks _awful_. Youngho honestly can’t recall the last time he’s seen him this stricken. If guilt were something tangible, it would be shrouding Taeil like a cloak, dark threads curling around his ankles and pulling him under.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil exhales, his voice splintering dangerously. “Youngho, it was an accident, I swear.”

“Of course it was. These things happen; it’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve be—”

“Taeil.” Youngho fights back the instinct to reach out and soothe him, knowing that Mark is the priority at the moment. “I’m going to go inside and check on Mark for a bit. Why don’t you go get something to drink? We’ll talk after. Just… take a breather. Okay?”

Taeil nods hesitantly before walking off, arms folding around his torso.

Forcing himself to look away, Youngho raps on the door and pushes it open. “Hey,” he announces. “Where’s the patient?”

“Hi, Daddy,” Mark greets him. Youngho is relieved to see that although he’s lying down, Mark seems none the worse for wear. “I fell down at the playground.”

“I know, buddy. I’m glad you’re alright but do be more careful next time, okay?”

Mark pouts but nods regardless, diverting his attention to the dinosaur figurine he has clutched in his free hand.

“What’s the damage?” This question Youngho directs at Krystal, who’s seated on the windowsill. “It doesn’t look that bad to me but I could be wrong.”

“You’re not,” Krystal affirms. “Sprained wrist and two broken fingers, nothing too terrible. The doctor’s coming in a while to fix up the cast.”

“I’m getting it done in _blue_ ,” chirps Mark, sounding proud.

Youngho cracks a grin at him. “That’s going to look pretty cool, huh?”

Once Mark is occupied with his toy again, Youngho sidles closer to Krystal so they can have a private conversation. “So, care to tell me what you were doing at the kindergarten?” 

“Doing you a favor.”

“What did you _do_ , Krystal?”

In her usual obstinate fashion, Krystal turns up her nose at him. “All I did was tell Taeil what you were too afraid to and that’s it.” She stabs his chest with a pointed finger before he could admonish her for it. “I didn’t say much but I said enough to give you an opening, so please make use of it. For the love of God, just _talk_ to him. He’s suffered too much because of you.”

A part of him still wants to berate her for interfering but Youngho knows she was only giving them both the push they needed.

“I hate you,” he tells her nonetheless.

“Mm, you’re welcome.” Arching an eyebrow, Krystal jerks her head toward the door. “Go. I’ll get you when the doctor comes.”

Youngho places a kiss on Mark’s forehead and exits the room. He looks around for Taeil but couldn’t find him, although he has an inkling of where he may be. Sure enough, Taeil is huddled in a corner by the vending machine, nursing a cup of coffee.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Youngho says by way of a greeting. “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“There’s still no excuse. I should’ve kept an eye on him.” 

“Taeil, accidents—”

“—shouldn’t have happened. Not on _my_ watch.” Taeil lifts a trembling hand to shield his eyes from view. He seems utterly tormented, sentiments bubbling right beneath the surface and threatening to break through. The sight makes something in Youngho coil tightly.

He squats down to sit on his haunches so he’s peering up at Taeil, who moves to obscure his entire face.

“Why are you so worked up over this, Taeil? You’re a teacher and a _dad_. I’m sure you’ve seen far worse.”

“It’s never been your son before,” warbles Taeil before dissolving into tears. “I can’t give you another reason to hate me.”

Slowly, Youngho leans forward and peels his fingers away so they’re looking at each other. Taeil’s eyes are bloodshot and watery, fraught with shame. Even so, they are beautiful and Youngho longs to see them the way they used to be many years ago – warm, crinkled with happiness and free of blame.

“Listen to me. I don’t hate you. I never have and I never will.”

“You should.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Youngho chides him gently. “You are so fixated on this idea of me that isn’t even real. It’s something _you_ made up. That person in your head, who always makes you question yourself? That’s not me.”

Sniffling, Taeil wipes his nose with the hem of his sleeve. “Then who are you?”

He is obviously fatigued, shaken by the events of the day, but the gaze that he sets on Youngho is steady. It’s laden with history, marred by their mutual mistakes and pain that could never hope to truly heal, but Youngho sees a wish concealed.

An expectation for him to find the courage that Taeil does not have, and move them forward.

“I’m just the Suh Youngho you met in Teacher Ji’s class at the age of fifteen,” Youngho struggles to say through the lump in his throat. “A lot has changed and a lot of mistakes were made. I don’t know how to right all the wrongs, nor do I know where we go from here, but I do know that I love you. Then, when we were best friends and later strangers, and now.”

He can feel how frigid Taeil’s hands are, heartbeat pulsing erratically under his touch.

“Now?” Taeil whispers. “Still?”

There is disbelief, peppered with fear, but above all, there is _hope_. Youngho knows then and there that he would do everything in his power to ensure Taeil never wants for anything again.

“Still,” Youngho confirms, intertwining their fingers together, “and always.”

Taeil starts to sob afresh and Youngho couldn’t help but laugh, despite being close to tears himself. “What am I going to do with you?” he wonders, mopping up Taeil’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Always refusing to share your troubles with me; always finding excuses to run from me.”

“Youngho, I have so many faults…”

“So do I. But what’s done is done and by now I’m sure you understand that holding onto the past is pointless.”

There is a pause, but when Taeil tilts his head slightly to the side, resting against Youngho’s open palm, Youngho knows that he has him.

“We’ve lost so much time already, Taeil. Let’s not lose any more.”

As Taeil draws closer, Youngho presses their foreheads together. He watches as Taeil’s eyelashes flutter, the rise and fall of his chest as he shudders with emotion, and Youngho is abruptly overcome with adoration for him. Their intimacy is no longer guided by youthful lust but instead subconsciously built – _blindly_ built, even when reciprocity was never guaranteed.

And that, Youngho supposes, is love.

“I don’t mean to pressure you or anything,” he murmurs, “but I really need to know if you love me too.”

Startled, Taeil recoils before visibly softening, a fond smile settling on his lips.

“You already know, Youngho.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to hear you say it.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Humor me.”

Taeil curls his hand around Youngho’s nape. There is so much unbridled affection, in the gesture and in his eyes, that Youngho wonders how he could have ever thought otherwise. “I love you. And I’m sorry, for so many things.”

“So am I,” Youngho tells him. “I have just as much to apologize for, if not more, but now isn’t the time for apologies, Taeil. We have the rest of our lives for that.”

Just as he’s about to kiss Taeil’s knuckles, a stray thought enters his mind.

“Wait, you’re not dating that colleague of yours, right? If you are then this situation is about to get really awkward.”

“Of course not,” snorts Taeil. “It wasn’t even a date. I told you that.”

“Good. Taeil?”

“Yes?”

“I think… I think I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.”

Their first kiss in more than a decade isn’t fantastic by any means but it’s everything Youngho could ever want. He feels a rush of familiarity, like his brain is detecting a long-forgotten memory, before it’s replaced by a warmth that he can only associate with one thing.

Peace.

Taeil withdraws first, albeit just slightly. Their lips are still touching, breaths coming out in soft pants.

“I didn’t realize how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Taeil says, a quiver to his tone.

Overcome with feeling, Youngho brushes the back of his hand against the curve of his jaw. “Thank you for waiting, even though you didn’t have to.”

“I would have still waited, even if you didn’t come back.”

“But I did.” Youngho kisses Taeil again, teeth tugging against his plush bottom lip. “I came back with my son, to you and our daughter.” He moves off the floor so he can take the empty seat next to Taeil, holding him flush against his side. Taeil complies easily and nuzzles against his shoulder.

They don’t speak for some time, yet there is nothing but comfort in the silence.

“We’re doing everything backwards,” Taeil eventually remarks with a wet chuckle. “We had two kids between us first before dealing with our feelings.”

“As long as we love each other and our kids, I don’t think the order of things really matters.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

There is a notion that has been lying dormant for quite some time, and Youngho feels he should address it first and foremost.

“Mark and I are a package deal. You know that, right?”

Taeil frowns, seemingly offended that he would even say such a thing.

“I wouldn’t want to have you without him,” is the simple answer Youngho gets and it is the answer he expected. Taeil, stubborn as he may be, is incapable of loving in small amounts. Youngho doesn’t have to ask to understand that regardless of the circumstances, even in the face of the resentment and raw hurt, Taeil has loved Mark from the very first day. 

A part of him worries that it might be an overkill but Youngho bends down and steals another kiss, though Taeil isn’t unwilling.

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Youngho says truthfully, “but we’ll figure it out as a family – you, me, the kids and occasionally, my nosy ex.”

They hear a loud _ahem_ and look up in tandem to see Krystal, who’s eyeing them smugly.

“Well, if it weren’t for your ‘nosy ex’, the two of you would still be emotionally constipated and helplessly yearning, so a little credit would be nice,” she scoffs. “Anyway, the doctor is in, Johnny. Mark’s asking for you.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

Once Krystal leaves, Youngho turns to Taeil. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I don’t think so. I’m still reeling from the whole thing and I don’t want to see him in any more pain.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back.” _For you._

“I’ll be here.” _Always._

“You’re nervous.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“No,” Youngho cedes, “but you do know there’s literally _nothing_ to worry about it, right? There’s no way either of them is going to take this badly.”

Although he knows Youngho is right, it’s in his nature to argue, so Taeil does exactly that. “You can’t know that for sure.”

Youngho rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me anyway,” teases Taeil, though saying it out loud still makes him jittery. It’s been nearly a month but he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, deeming the state of things too good to be true. The journey of his life has taught him to be wary but he’s also trying to teach himself to enjoy what is before him. It’s not easy.

It’s not easy, but having Youngho around certainly helps.

“I do.” Eyes soft around the edges, Youngho lets his hand rest on Taeil’s thigh and starts stroking circles mindlessly with his thumb. “Very much, actually.”

Taeil could feel himself blushing down to his toes.

Yeri jogs up to them with Mark on her heels, having tired of looking at the ducks floating in the lake. However, unlike the other times the kids are around, Youngho makes no move to take his hand away. It’s a good precursor, Taeil supposes, for the conversation that’s about to follow.

And judging by the way Yeri zeroes in on Youngho’s hand, it’s a much needed one.

“Why don’t you come sit here with us for a while? We have something to talk about with you two,” says Youngho. Taeil is glad that he’s taking the lead because his own mouth is so dry, he doesn’t think he can get past more than one word.

“Talk about what?” Yeri wants to know, squinting at them with suspicion.

“Just sit first, please.”

They oblige and climb up between them, Yeri settling next to Youngho and Mark next to Taeil.

As their eyes meet over the kids’ heads, Youngho quirks an eyebrow inquiringly, a silent _are you ready?_

He isn’t. But Taeil nods anyway.

“A lot has happened in the past few months and I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for both of you to understand it,” Youngho begins. “We’re not sure how to explain it, either, but we wanted to make some things clear.”

“I’m already confused,” Mark pipes up, honest in the way only young children could be. Taeil laughs and squeezes him around the shoulders.

There’s a brief pause before Youngho tries again.

“Mark, you know that Mommy and I are good friends, right? We love each other, as friends do, but we aren’t _in_ love. Do you get that?”

Mark frowns, adorably mystified. “I think so,” he says. “You and Mommy are friends like you and Uncle Taeyong, but you and Mommy aren’t married like Uncle Taeyong and Aunt Seulgi.”

“Yes,” agrees Youngho. “That sounds about right. Whatever it is, Mommy and I love _you_.”

“I know.”

Now comes the difficult part and Taeil is seized by nerves yet again.

But then Youngho slides his arm across the back of the park bench, fingertips lingering against his neck just the slightest, and Taeil feels at ease again.

“Uncle Taeil – or Dad – and I, we were friends once and we fell in love. But we were stup- _silly_ and didn’t talk to each other properly, so we were both sad and mad for a very long time. That’s why I went to Chicago and I didn’t know about Yeri until recently,” Youngho murmurs, gently stroking Yeri’s hair although it’s obvious that rehashing the past pains him. 

Taeil decides to step in.

“But now,” he says, willing his voice to stop wavering, “after spending time with and talking to each other, we decided that… we still love each other.”

Youngho gazes at him, tender and encouraging, and Taeil _aches_ with the love he has for this man.

“In the _married_ way?” Mark exclaims, eyes as huge as saucers.

Shocked, Yeri looks at Youngho, then Taeil. “You guys are getting _married_?”

“No,” Taeil replies quickly, but then he wonders – where else is there for them to go? He has always known, in the deepest cavern of his soul, that he will only ever belong to Youngho. The long years apart have done nothing to diminish it, instead only reinforcing it, and to tell himself otherwise would only constitute another lie and he’s _done_ with those.

“No,” he repeats. “At least, not anytime soon.”

Youngho smiles, and there’s a telltale sheen to his eyes. “But someday.”

Taeil feels his heart stutter at the promise, one that he will hold dear and guard closely until the day comes.

“So I have a little brother and two dads now,” Yeri remarks with a little shake of her head. “Wow.”

Chuckling, Youngho boops her on the nose. “You’ve always had a brother and two dads, baby. That won’t ever change, whether or not Dad and I are together.”

“But now it’s different. We’re a _family_.”

“Are we?” wonders Mark, an unhappy dip to his mouth. “Yeri-noona is your daughter but I’m Mommy’s son, so—”

“Mark.” Taeil shifts so they are directly facing each other. He looks into Mark’s wide eyes, ever trusting and hopeful, and feels like his chest could burst. “You don’t have to be my son for me to love you, and I _do_. So much.” Swallowing, he adds, “You have Daddy, Mommy, Yeri-noona and… me, I guess. If you want that.”

Mark seems to weigh this for a moment before leaning against Taeil with a pleased hum. “I think I want that a lot.”

“Then you’ll have that,” Taeil assures him, holding him close, “and more.”

Taeyong opens the door with a shit-eating grin that Taeil deeply wishes he could smack off his face. Youngho’s hand on the small of his back presses a little harder, a reminder for him to behave.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” drawls Taeyong, pulling the door wide open. “The happiest little family in all of Seoul.”

“On second thought, maybe Youngho’s parents don’t need a break from the kids after all.”

“ _Okay_ , I’ll lay off. I want quality time with my favorite niece and nephew. Wait – don’t tell Jaehyun and Doyoung that.”

“Koeun doesn’t even sleep through the night yet,” Youngho comments. “I don’t think even _she_ is their favorite at the moment.”

They enter the living room, where Seulgi is setting up a movie on the TV. Yeri and Mark flock to her like moths to a flame, eager to find out what their entertainment will be for the night.

“Hi, guys,” Seulgi greets them with a grin. “Enjoy your date tonight and don’t worry about these two. They’re in good hands.”

Taeil flushes. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be just fine with you,” he says loftily. “Taeyong, on the other hand…”

“You wound me.” Taeyong places a hand on his chest.

Taking a cursory glance at his watch, Youngho then declares, “We should go. We wouldn’t want to be late for our reservation.”

“The kids aren’t even settled in yet.” It’s a poor excuse on Taeil’s part. The truth is, the idea of going on a date with Youngho seemed intriguing at first but now that the time for it has come, Taeil is apprehensive. This would be the true test of their compatibility; the first real occasion where they don’t have to argue about the past or battle their masked feelings.

They just have to _be_ , the two of them.

“Nonsense,” Taeyong promptly interjects. “They’ll be just fine. Kids, come and say bye to your dads.”

Yeri and Mark obediently bid goodbye to their parents, allowing themselves to be hugged and kissed repeatedly by Taeil who is finding it incredibly difficult to let them out of his arms.

“You’re smothering them,” chuckles Youngho. “It’s not like we’re leaving them behind to go to war. We’ll be back in three hours.”

“Behave for Uncle Taeyong and Aunt Seulgi, okay?”

“Okay, Dad,” Yeri intones. “Have fun with Daddy.”

“But not too much fun,” Taeyong says under his breath, which earns him a pinch on the arm from his wife.

After Taeil continues to dawdle, even Seulgi threatens to kick them out if they don’t leave, so they’re left with no choice. Once the door shuts in their faces, though, Taeil feels a profound sense of loss. He hasn’t taken much time for himself in the nine years that Yeri has been around, save for sporadic dates with men he cared little for, but now he actually _wants_ to go.

It makes him feel guilty.

“Taeil?”

“Yeah?”

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Youngho offers, obliging as always. “I know it’s already a lot – co-parenting, getting back together. If you feel like a date would be too much on top of things, I understand. We have time; I can wait.”

Alarmed, Taeil grasps Youngho around his forearm. “It’s not that,” he rushes to say. “Of course I want to go out with you.”

“That’s good to know but you seem a bit too antsy right now.” The words are patient, gentle, as Youngho caresses his arms up and down. “I don’t want to go out if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

Sighing, Taeil leans in and faceplants against Youngho’s broad chest. “I’m nervous,” he admits.

“Why?”

“Because it’s our _first date_? We sorted out everything already – feelings, kids, exes. Now it’s just us and it’s never been just _us_ in a long time,” Taeil rambles on. “And I feel terrible for getting so caught up in this when the kids should be my main priority but… well, I love you and I want- I want to be _wooed_ , but I’m also a dad, so this whole thing is weird!”

To his credit, Youngho tries his level best not to laugh, although he ends up failing spectacularly.

“It’s not funny,” Taeil complains, his cheeks burning.

“I’m not laughing at you.” Youngho smiles at him fondly and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I just forgot how cute you are.”

“I’m literally twenty-eight, Youngho.”

“And what about it?”

Taeil snorts, pulling away, but Youngho is quick to wrap his arms around him.

“Just because you’re a dad, it doesn’t mean your entire life has to be about the kids. You’re allowed to want some things for yourself too,” says Youngho. “You _deserve_ a lot of things too and I’ll do my best to give them to you – including wooing, if you so wish – but not tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Taeil blinks at him. “You made a reservation and we’re already late.”

“Taeil, you’re way too worked up to be able to sit through a three-course meal at a pretentious restaurant and actually appreciate it.” Sliding an arm around his waist, Youngho steers them both in the direction of his car. “We’re going home. Your place, specifically.”

“ _My_ place? What—”

“No funny business, I promise. At least, not yet.” Youngho winks at him.

By now, they’ve reached the car and Taeil is still bewildered. “What on earth are you saying?” he manages to demand. “What are our plans now?”

“We’re going to your place,” Youngho starts. “You pick out one of those ridiculous romcoms you like, I’ll order whatever you want to eat, and we’ll have a quiet night in. Maybe even light an aromatherapy candle so you can really relax, huh? I’ll get the kids after and take them to mine for the night, so you’ll get some good sleep for once. How does that sound?”

The lump lodged in his throat expands and Taeil finds himself fighting back tears.

“Taeil?” Youngho is concerned. “If you still want to have dinner at the restaurant, we can. It’s not too late—”

“I love you.” The tears fall free and fast but Taeil doesn’t try to stop them. “Youngho, I love you _so much_.” He truly does – for the longest time and for times to come, no matter their past transgressions or their future obstacles.

“Oh, baby,” Youngho breathes, tugging him close. “If I’d known all it needed was enough sleep for you to realize the depth of your love for me, I would’ve taken the kids off your hands sooner.”

Taeil giggles wetly and punches him in the gut, only to be met with rock-hard abs. “You’re the worst.”

“I love you too.” Youngho laces their hands together, kisses each of his fingertips in turn. “Now, let’s go home.”

_**ten years later.** _

Youngho wakes up to a dark room and an empty bed.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes, he turns to look at the digital clock on the bedside table only to find it displaying a bold 11:04.

“Shit,” Youngho gasps, scrambling to get out of bed, before realizing that the blackout curtains are drawn and Taeil’s side of the bed has gone cold. It could only mean that the decision to let him sleep in was an intentional one.

God, he really doesn’t deserve him.

After a speedy shower, Youngho dresses in the white shirt and blue jeans that Taeil had placed on a hanger in their closet. He briefly debates doing his hair but figures that since he’s been less than helpful for longer than he’d like, a squirt of gel would have to do. Once that’s done, he exits their bedroom, to a sight that makes him feel even worse than he already does.

The living room is party-ready, littered with silver and white balloons. Even the furniture has been rearranged to accommodate their guests and the dining table is covered with all of Youngho’s favorite foods.

Wincing, Youngho heads to the kitchen.

“Looks like the birthday boy is finally up,” says Taeil, grinning at him from the other end of the table where he’s putting the finishing touches on a plate of fresh doughnuts. “Happy birthday, honey. The big three-eight.”

Youngho moves closer to him, circles both arms around his waist. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“Whatever for? As if I’d let you set up for your own birthday party.”

“You’re putting in way too much effort for this. You shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

“Youngho,” Taeil groans, “it’s fine. It’s not like I’m pregnant or anything.”

“You _were_.” Slowly, Youngho inches his hand forward so it rests against his husband’s flat stomach. He snorts when Taeil immediately slaps his hand away.

“Don’t get any ideas,” warns Taeil, although it’s playful. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday wish. No more kids.”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Youngho rounds the table and approaches the baby swing that’s taking up the most space on it. The occupant sleeps on, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that, Taeil. We might need to get a refund.”

“After all that I’ve been through? Oh, we’re keeping this one.”

Sungchan was a complete and total accident. When they’d gotten married not long after Yeri’s eleventh birthday, Youngho and Taeil both arrived at a mutual decision not to have any more children. Yeri and Mark were more than enough for them and they wanted to focus on creating a happy and healthy home for their existing kids and for themselves.

But then Yeri went to college and Mark became a full-fledged teenager who spends more time with his friends than he does at home, and one thing… led to another.

Even if Sungchan had not been in his foresight, Youngho can no longer recall what his family of four was like now that there’s five of them. And after witnessing firsthand all that Taeil had to endure in order to bring Sungchan into their world, Youngho doesn’t think he could ever regard his husband with anything less than utter reverence.

“Really, Taeil, you’re doing way too much,” Youngho insists. “All the food, the decorations. And who helped you with the furniture? Please tell me you didn’t lift any of it yourself.”

“Sungchan is already five months old, Youngho. I’ve recovered enough. And either way, Mark and Donghyuck worked on the furniture.”

“You invited Donghyuck to my birthday party?”

Taeil raises an eyebrow. “Was I not supposed to? He’s Mark’s best friend. They were classmates since they were in my class.”

“They’re _fifteen_ , my love. We were ‘best friends’ and ‘classmates’ when we were fifteen too.”

“Well, according to your son, they’re just best friends. Let them figure it out on their own.”

As if they’ve been summoned, Mark and Donghyuck appear at the entryway to the kitchen, red-faced and snickering.

Mark hands a plastic bag to Taeil. “Here’s the groceries, Dad. I think I got everything.” He then turns to Youngho with a big grin. “And happy birthday to you, Dad.” He leans in to give Youngho a hug.

It gnaws at Youngho that when he holds his son now, all he feels are bones and muscle, instead of the soft warmth of _baby_ that used to be there. He clutches Mark a little tighter.

“Oh, yeah!” Donghyuck crows, weaseling into the hug despite the disapproving glare he receives from Youngho. “Happy birthday, Mr. Suh. I hope you have a good day today but I know that every day I’m here is a _great_ day for you.”

All Youngho could do is let out a long-suffering huff, deliberately ignoring Taeil’s unconcealed laughter.

Eventually their guests arrive, led by Taeyong and Seulgi who are prompt as they usually are, and followed by Jaehyun, Doyoung and their sizeable brood of four girls. Youngho would’ve fainted if he were to have that many daughters – Yeri alone is enough to send his head spinning even on good days – but Jaehyun absolutely adores it.

“Happy birthday, my baby,” Youngho’s mother coos, pinching his cheeks when he greets her and his father at the door.

“I’m thirty-eight, Mom. Hardly a baby.”

“That’s why I said _my_ baby and not _a_ baby. Now, where’s Sungchannie?” She flits toward the balcony, where Sungchan is being coddled by Yuta.

While having Sungchan has given Youngho the joy of experiencing pregnancy and early parenthood with Taeil, it’s also given his parents the opportunity to watch their grandchild grow and be a part of his life since Day 1, and that in itself gives Youngho a lot to be grateful for.

Even so, he exchanges a look with his father, who chuckles.

“I feel like the only reason Mom likes me is because I gave her grandkids.”

“That is one reason,” his father concedes, “but it’s also because your children are a reflection of who you are as a person, Youngho. It assures her that we did well with you.” Eyes misty, he smiles. “Happy birthday, son.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Youngho says hoarsely, patting him on the back.

Mark comes up to them, with his phone in his hand and Donghyuck trailing after him. “Yeri-noona’s on Facetime, Dad. I think it’s around 8.30 at night in LA.”

They all gather on the couch to receive the call. Mark presses a button and Yeri’s face fills the entire screen.

“Hi, Daddy! Happy birthday,” Yeri cheers. She’s sitting at an island, eating something out of a bowl, and based on the interior of the kitchen, Youngho knows exactly where she is.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Badgering your Aunt Krystal for free food again?”

The phone pans to Krystal, who’s stirring something at the stove. “You know it,” she says dryly. “Hey, John. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Krystal. I hope my kid isn’t eating her way through your wallet over there, but _your_ kid over here sure is.”

“He’s a growing boy and Taeil is a good cook. You can’t blame him,” taunts Krystal. She then peers at the screen. “Where are they, anyway? I’d rather look at their faces than yours.”

Laughing, Mark leans his head against Taeil’s shoulder so they’re both visible. “Hi, Mom. We’re here. How are you?”

“I’m good, Markie. I miss you. And Taeil, did you have a baby just five months ago? Because you look _amazing_.”

At the mention of the baby, Yeri lets out a shriek and grabs the phone from Krystal. “Let me see him,” she begs. “Where’s my favorite baby brother?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Mark snaps, wounded, and Donghyuck giggles.

“Relax, Mark. Sungchan is my favorite _baby_ brother and you’re my favorite _little_ brother. It’s different. And is that Duckie? Hi, Duckie!”

“Hi, Yeri-noona!”

“Say hi to Duckie for me,” Youngho hears Krystal call out in the background. Dear God, the boy has wormed his way into literally every crevice in the family. He couldn’t help but scowl at the mop of dark hair just inches away from him.

Taeil digs an elbow into his side. “Be nice,” he hisses.

“I’m trying.”

“Try _harder_.”

To prove that he isn’t as overprotective as Taeil makes him out to be, Youngho clears his throat. “How’s that… boyfriend of yours, Yeri-ah? Liam?”

“Lucas,” Taeil, Mark, Donghyuck, Yeri and Krystal correct him in unison.

“Right. Lucas.”

“He’s great,” Yeri gushes, smiling dreamily. “Aunt Krystal met him the other day and she loves him. Right?”

Krystal hums in assent, pouring herself a glass of water. “I have to admit, he’s a good one.”

“Well, I hope you keep in mind that your goal in college is to get a degree, not to get a boyfriend.”

Rolling his eyes, Taeil intercepts the conversation before it could get heated. “What your father means is that you should study hard while you enjoy your time with Lucas. Anyway, we can’t wait to visit you in the summer. Sungchan is excited to meet his Yeri-noona for the first time.” He lifts Sungchan up a bit so he can be seen on screen, and both Yeri and Krystal visibly melt.

Before long, the phone gets passed around the others who also want to catch up with Yeri, and Youngho manages to steal some peace and quiet amidst the hubbub.

“Here,” Taeil says, passing a warm bottle of formula to him. “Feeding time.”

With Taeil hanging off his shoulder, Youngho takes the bottle and gently nudges the teat into Sungchan’s open mouth. He watches, transfixed, as his son eats eagerly.

“You said you were going to let me know what you want as your birthday present. It’s already the day of and you still haven’t told me.”

Youngho looks around the room.

Doyoung is berating his youngest daughter for eating too many jellies. Taeyong and Seulgi are laughing at one of Donghyuck’s silly jokes, while Mark stares at him, moon-eyed. His parents are heckling Yuta, probably about finding someone and settling down, while Jaehyun sniggers in the background. Yeri is still on the phone, chattering away with Koeun.

Sungchan is a solid weight in his arms; Taeil is a warm weight against his side.

“I think I’m good,” murmurs Youngho, pressing a kiss against his husband’s temple. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's it. wow, I can't believe this fic is done! I really started it with absolutely no direction in mind, so I'm really proud of myself for finishing it. above all, I was really motivated by all of you. thank you SO much to every single person who took time out of their day to read, comment and give kudos to this fic. I can't even begin to explain how much each and every one of it means to me. 
> 
> also, I hope it's not too late to wish everyone a Happy New Year. 2020 was brutal for a lot of us but NCT made it so much more bearable. I already miss NCT 2020 but I'm looking forward to what the future holds for them and will continue to support them through all of it! here's to 2021 being better for all of us 💚


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